


Lost and Found

by IamtheOther5am



Series: Lost and Found [1]
Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes - Fandom - Freeform, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Returns, Captain America (movies) - Freeform, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, F/M, Marvel Universe, Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, sam wilson - Freeform, steve rogers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:27:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamtheOther5am/pseuds/IamtheOther5am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After rescuing Steve from the Potomac, and with HYDRA out in the open and SHIELD destroyed, Bucky decides to get out of Washington...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You hated flying. No, actually, you didn’t hate flying _itself_ , but travelling with other people. If 10 years on the Frequent Flyer program had taught you anything, it was that civilized, well-mannered people transform into nasty, selfish creatures when gathered around an airport departure gate, and this group, huddled round Gate 15 at Washington Dulles were no exception. You stood back, watching as people shuffled closer and closer to the jet bridge entrance, eyeing each other up to see who they could beat to the front of the line.

The first time, you’d found it quite funny, observing this twist in human behaviour, but now you were sick of it. “And here I thought assigned seats were a thing? Just get me out of here,” you muttered under your breath as a man shrieked ahead of you, his foot run over by another eager passenger’s luggage wheel. As the incident threatened to spill over into an actual fist fight, you turned on your heel and flopped down on the nearest bench, pulling your phone from your pocket and getting back to level 99 of Candy Crush.

Thirty minutes later, the airline representative made the announcement for all First Class and Business passengers to board. You looked down at your ticket. This was usually the moment when you would rise to your feet and step forward, but a mix up with scheduling at work meant you weren’t booked on this flight, and you just wanted to get home, so you’d paid for whatever you could get.

“All economy passengers flying Britannic Air to London Heathrow are now invited to board.”

You looked again at your ticket and pushed up off the bench. “That’s me…”

\---

 “39…40…41…” you mumbled as you made your way up the aisle, squeezing past the occasional passenger who was too busy trying to force their giant piece of luggage into the overhead compartment to let you past. “48…49…” You glanced ahead, spotting your window seat on row 51. You’d chosen it because it was one of only a handful of 2-seat sections, which meant less people to climb over when your legs needed a stretch, and it looked as if your travel companion was already there. You focused on the man, wearing a dark green jacket with the collar turned up, and a black baseball cap pulled right down over his face. A frown crossed your features; _this should be fun…not_.

“Sorry, could I just…” You motioned to your seat and smiled awkwardly. “I’m there.”

He lifted his head for a moment, his face expressionless. He rose to his feet and stepped out, waiting patiently as you threw your laptop bag into the overhead and shimmied into your seat. As you clipped you belt around your waist and tugged at the strap, he settled himself back down next to you and pulled the baseball cap lower, completely obscuring his face. The awkwardness was palpable. You could tell he was averting his eyes from you, and it just made you even more curious about this mysterious man. _Have we met?_

He reached out to grab the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket that scraped against his knees and you noticed his left hand, bound tightly with a thick bandage. “Oh my goodness, how did you do that?” you blurted out, instantly clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment.  

“Huh?” He turned to face you, and for the first time you got a good look at his face.

His piercing blue eyes were the first thing you noticed, filled with sadness, which instantly made his unshaven appearance make sense. His jawline, though obscured, was visibly sharp, and his mouth…well, that was entirely beside the point. You could tell he was a very handsome man, under that dishevelled appearance. _I know I've looked in those eyes before_. Your gaze was drawn back down to his hand, which he quickly hid away, yanking the sleeve of his coat down over it. “I’m sorry, that was…that was so rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, his attention wrenched away by a man bumping into his right elbow with his leg. He returned to you, “Forget about it, it’s just a work injury.”

“Wow…must’ve been a pretty big one,” you said quietly, “I hope you were properly compensated.”

He shuffled in his seat, his discomfort clear to see. “Erm...sure.”

“Well, again, I’m sorry. I’m not usually that impolite, honest. I just have a habit of engaging mouth _before_ engaging brain and I realise that I’m babbling, instead of leaving you alone and should’ve shut up a long time ago so I’m going to do that now.” You rolled your lips and stared straight ahead at the blank TV screen buried in the headrest in front, whilst you felt his eye bore into you. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and settled down behind his magazine.

\---

An hour into the flight and you had kept yourself to yourself, catching up on your emails on your laptop, a miniature bottle of white wine for company. Something kept clawing back to the front of your mind, though, disrupting your progress. Your travel companions face. It was… _familiar?_ You shook your head, and typed out some more notes. _I know I’ve seen that face before._

“So…what, erm…what brought you to Washington?” he said, out of nowhere. He coughed and glanced up at the flight attendant collecting empty bottles from the tray tables.

It took you a minute to even realise he was talking to you. “Huh? Oh, sorry, I was…finishing some work.” You removed your glasses, ran your fingers through your long [colour] hair, and turned slightly to face him. He was still hiding under that cap, but you could see his eyes a little better. “I work in museums…I travel around the world organising loans of artefacts and bringing exhibitions to London.”

“Sounds interesting,” he said, offering the briefest of smiles.

“It is. I was here visiting the Captain America exhibit at the Smith…” You froze, your mouth gaping as you stared at him.

His eyes grew wide in tandem with yours, and just as he shuffled in his seat, ready to respond he was silenced by the plane juddering as it hit turbulence, the shaking prolonged and quite violent. Your stomach rose as the plane dropped a foot, before lifting slightly. His hands gripped the armrests, the knuckles on his right hand white.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He took a gulp of air, “Been a long time since I’ve…flown.”

The plane dropped again, the sounds of the trolleys rattling in the galley behind making things seem even worse.

“It’s just turbulence,” you smiled, “Nothing to worry about.”

“Brings back bad memories, that’s all.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“No.”

“All right, fair enough…want to talk about something else?”

“No.”

“Hey, you started this conversation, mister,” you said, pointing a finger at him.

“I was trying to be polite but you…” He huffed.

“I what?”

“Why are you so _desperate_ to talk to me, hun?” he growled, jerking his head round to look at you,

You rolled your lips. “I don’t know, I just…I’m sorry, it’s just…have we met before?”

“What?”

“You have such a familiar face and I’m asking all these questions to try and figure out _where_ exactly I know you from.”

“No, we’ve _never_ met before,” he said in an angry whisper, pulling his cap down and looking over his sholder. He returned his grip to the armrests and exhaled through his nose, his focus landing everywhere but your face, “I _don’t_ know you and _you_ don’t know me.” A passenger a few seats over coughed loudly, causing him to nearly leap up. “Can’t we leave it at that?”

You shook your head, only half listening to his plea, “No, I’m sorry, but weren’t you at the Smithsonian a couple of days ago? I’m _certain_ that I saw you there…” You leaned forward a little, offering him a soft smile as you tried to catch his eyes. Then it hit you. “Oh my goodness, I’m right. It’s you…you’re…you’re…Buck…”

“No!” he yelled as he released his grip and spun around to cover you mouth with his hand, held back from jumping on you completely by his tightly fastened seatbelt. A few passengers murmured and peered over, some craning their necks to get a better view. His eyes wild, he dropped his hand and whispered through gritted teeth, “Do _not_ …finish….that sentence….”

You struggled to hear him over the sound of your heart pounding in your chest, his breath against your cheek. “I…I didn’t mean to up…upset you. I…”

“Shut up!”

“Al…all right….” Your hands shook as you lifted them and pushed gently against his chest, forcing him back into his seat.

Immediately, his face changed, almost as if he’d woken from some living nightmare. The poisonous stare he’d just aimed in your direction melted into sheer anguish and he leaned forward, dropping his head in his hands and clenching his fists against his cap. “I’m…sorry. I…I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” he whispered.

A flight attendant hurried down the aisle to you, pointed in the right direction by a concerned passenger, and hovered over you both. “Is everything okay, ma’am?” she asked, dropping her eyes to him and back.

You gave a hesitant nod, becoming more enthusiastic as you listened to his sobs. ‘Yes’ you mouthed, assuring her with your sympathetic eyes.

She returned the gesture and smiled, giving him another glance before walking away.

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you lowered your head to be level with his and spoke in a soft voice, “Bucky…? Bucky Barnes?”

He lifted his head out of his hands and faced you, his cheeks streaked with tears. He rolled his lips and gave a slow nod.

“I’m sorry for…for pushing you to tell me who you are. I didn’t think it would cause this much…” You sighed. “Well, I just didn’t think, did I?”

“It’s not your fault…I didn’t expect to have this kind of reaction to my _name_.” He scoffed and shook his head, “And now I feel terrible for scaring you.”

“Who? Me? Nah,” you smiled, waving him off and keeping your shredded nerves well hidden. “I’m all right. More concerned about you, really. Why…what…” You gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he sat up straight and took a deep breath. “Will you talk to me?”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know how to. It’s been too long.”

“Well, let me help you.”

“Why are you being so nice to me? I don’t deserve it.”

“Let me be the judge of that, okay? It’s nice to have someone to talk to for a change, if I’m honest.”

He offered a faint smile. “What do you want to ask?”

“Does Steve Rogers know you’re…alive?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you with him? I can’t imagine his shock…”

“I don’t…I _can’t_ be around him, or anyone for that matter.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I’m not a good man.”

You shook your head. “That’s not what I heard. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th was a brave man.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Everywhere,” you smiled, “The story of Captain America is legendary, even back home in England. _Everyone_ knows it…”

“They do?”

“Yes. You, Steve, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark…I must have read the accounts of your work with the Howling Commandos one hundred times as a child. And now you’re sitting right beside me…” You chewed your lip, “It’s difficult to get my head around.”

“Ha," he scoffed, "No kidding…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck on a plane for hours. Nowhere to run.

As the meals began to be served, you closed your laptop, stashed it and stood up to stretch as best you could. You looked down at Bucky and frowned. He was turned away from you slightly, peering up and down the aisle.

“Everything all right?” you asked.

“Hungry, that’s all.” He flopped back in his seat and lifted his shoulders before dropping them again. He watched you sit, then took his cap off. “Guess I don’t need this now, seen as you know who I am…” His hair was almost black, but was clean and surprisingly shiny to say it had been hidden for who-knows how long. He ran his fingers through it and watched you sit down.

You smiled and straightened your back, “Good. Now let’s start again. I’m [name].” You held your hand out to him.

He frowned, then cautiously shook it. “Bucky, I guess...”

Nice to meet you, Bucky, I guess...”

He laughed, despite his best efforts.

“I made you laugh. Yes!” You clenched your hand into a fist and pulled your arm down, in celebration. “So…”

“So…?”

“What brings you to London?”

“I…erm, well…I have some business to take care of, up in Scotland. This was the only flight option.”

“Oh, right. Dare I ask what kind of business?”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” He looked at you, expecting your eyes to shift or show some kind of sign that you wouldn’t press the subject, but you were visibly intrigued. “Listen, [name]…” He twisted round to face you, his knees touching yours. “I told you I’m not a good man…”

You chewed your lip, your eyes flitting between his face and your knees. “Yes,” you responded, finally, “What about it?”

“Well, I have…oh, never mind. Forget about it.”

“Hey,” you sighed, placing your hand over his, “How about we make this flight our window of opportunity, huh? You can tell me anything you want, and vice versa, no judgements.”

“I can’t, it’s too…”

“No. Judgements.” You lowered your face to glare at him. “All right?”

He nodded. “All right. You want me to just…talk, or do you want to ask me a question?”

You took a deep breath and tilted your head to one side. “I know this is a loaded question but…why are you the same age as you were in all those photos at the exhibition?”

“You know why Steve looks the same?”

You nodded. “Frozen under the ice for 70 years.”

“Pretty much that.”

“Really?”

“I don’t remember _everything_ , but I’m certain that I was frozen by them…”

“Th…them?” You shook your head, confusion written across your face.

He rolled his lips and nodded, “I was captured, many, many years ago. The date they said I died…I think that was the day _they_ found me.”

Your hand covered your mouth as you shook your head. “I…I don’t know what to say.” You gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and lowered your head, “I’m sorry to hear that, Bucky.”

“It was a long time ago,” he stated.

“And that’s what this issue in Scotland relates to?”

He nodded again. “Yes. I have vague memories of being taken to a facility up in the Highlands once, away from prying eyes. I plan on, erm…” He coughed and wriggled in his seat, offering a quick glance over his shoulder before continuing, “I plan on shutting the place down, if you, errr, get my meaning.”

“Wow,” you sighed, with a shake of your head. “I… _wow_.”

“So how about I ask…”

“I’m sorry to interrupt sir, but chicken or vegetarian?” the flight attendant asked as she brought the trolley to a stop beside him.

Bucky kept his head low, his eyes away from her, “Chicken p…please,” he mumbled.

“Certainly.” She handed him the tray of hot food and looked in your direction, “And for you, ma’am?”

“The same, thank you.”

Another miniature bottle of white wine and half a portion of chicken Alfredo later, and the mood had changed, morphing into a slightly happier atmosphere. Being desperate to shift the subject away from himself, he told you about his lack of pop culture knowledge, so you tried your best to fill him in on the good stuff, “…And then there’s Star Wars, and Prince! Oh my goodness, you need to listen to Prince! Purple Rain…ugh! I adore it! And of course,  I would not be a very good Englishwoman if I didn’t tell you to listen to The Beatles, The Stones, The Who…we had a lot of bands that started with ‘The’, didn’t we?”

“Sure seems like it,” he laughed, taking a bite of his lunch and savouring every mouthful. He took a gulp of water and placed his fork down. “So, as I was about to ask earlier, before our food interruption. You’ve gotten to know me a little better, so can tell me a bit about yourself?”

You sank into your seat and clasped your hands together, “What would you like to know?”

“Tell me about your family…I’m intrigued to find out how such a good woman came to be sitting beside me.”

You scrunched your face to try and hide your blushes, then nodded, “Okay. Well, I was born and raised in a tiny little village in Yorkshire, which isn’t _anywhere_ near London, in case you were wondering,” you winked. “Mum and Dad owned an antique shop in the nearby town, and I guess that’s where I discovered my love of history. Spending every school holiday with my elder sister Joanna, playing hide and seek in the stock room, piled high with old cabinets, bookcases, mirrors…it was fascinating.”

“Sounds it. Where are your family these days?”

“Well, Joanna works in New York City…took over the family business a few years ago and sort of expanded it. Now it’s one of the biggest antique and auction houses in the western hemisphere.”

“That’s incredible,” he smiled, “Are you close?”

“As close as we can be, living on different continents,” you laughed, your voice cracking as your emotions threatened to escape. “It was a wrench, having her move all that way, but we Skype whenever we can and I visit whenever I’m in New York.”

“Do your parents get to visit her often?”

“Mum does, but Dad…he erm…” You sniffed, and stared up at the reading lights above you. “He died, just over 2 years ago.” A tear trickled down your face, and you wiped it away, still looking up.

“I’m so sorry, [name],” he said in a low voice, his hand coming to rest on top of yours, “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

A spluttering laugh escaped your lips. You collected a napkin from your lunch tray and dabbed at your eyes, “It’s all right. It’s good to talk about our sadness sometimes, right? All part of the healing process, or so they say.”

“So they say…” He blew a stream of air out through his lips and nudged your shoulder, trying to cheer you up, “What about a boyfriend, though, or husband? I’m sure a beautiful woman like you has them lining up.”

You stared at him, catching his gaze and holding it with an intensity he’d never seen before. You bit your lip as a few more tears rolled down your cheeks. “There’s no one.” You pulled your eyes away and picked up the fork on your tray, pushing some left over vegetables around the little foil container. “Just me.”

“No, that can’t be right…”

“How it’s always been, really. I just wanted to focus on my career…and by the time I realised I wanted something more for myself, it seemed like everyone was taken.”

He reached out, wiping a tear away with his right thumb and taking your hands in his. “Having spent only a few hours with you, I can see how much of a wonderful person you are, [name], and I’m _certain_ you’ll meet someone who will be perfect for you.”

“And here I thought I was helping _you_.” You laughed through your tears again, as he gave your hands a gentle squeeze. “Thank you Bucky…you _are_ a good man, you can’t deny it.”

He gazed at you, your hands still together and time standing still. His cheeks were rosy, but as you pulled him a little closer, he composed himself and smiled. “Looks like we were both in the right place at the right time.”

“W…what do you mean?”

“Erm…Just being a shoulder to cry on for one another…” He let go of you and leaned back into his seat, his head slamming back against the headrest.

“Oh…yes, yes of course.”

The flight attendant returned to collect the lunch trays. This time, Bucky actually looked at her, offering a small smile of gratitude before turning to take yours out of your grasp and handing it to her. She nodded and threw you a warm smile, visibly pleased that the situation earlier had calmed down considerably.

You’d noticed something, but it was a difficult subject to approach the subject. You looked at him and chewed your lip, considering whether or not to ask a question that was beginning to burn inside you. After ten minutes of quiet contemplation, you leaned over and, without thinking, lowered your head onto his shoulder. He turned to look at you and you were sure a faint smile flashed across his face.  

“Everything all right?” he asked, feeling strangely calm.

“I’ve been thinking about something…but I don’t want to upset you, or put you in a difficult position…”

“Oh geez, that sounds ominous,” he smirked. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Well, earlier on…when you were comforting me and you took my hands…” you whispered as you fidgeted with the TV screen controls, your head still resting against his shoulder. “Y…your left hand…the bandaged one…”

“Yes?”

“It was cold…freezing cold, in fact, so I…” You took a deep breath and looked up at him, “I felt for a pulse...”

“It’s a prosthetic.”

“It is? Then why bandage it up?”

“It’s, erm…an _unusual_ one, specially made. I’m currently spending only my third full day in normal civilisation for decades and I’m pretty sure my appearance would freak a lot of people out, so I cover it.”

You pulled back, catching his eyes, “I wouldn’t freak out…”

“I’m beginning to realise that,” he said. “But still, this way is better for being out in public.”

You rolled your lips, nodding in acceptance. “Fair enough. I’ll stop bringing it up every few hours now, I promise.”

“That’s okay. No judgements, right?”

“Right.”

“So, do you…erm…would you like to…” He lifted his shoulder and patted it with his right hand, “Use me as a pillow, again?” He blushed.

You bit your lip and dropped your head to one side, giving him a side-eyed glance. “You sure? I did it without even thinking about it…an old habit, I guess. Forgot that we’d only known each other for as long as we’ve been up in the air.”

He laughed, a full, genuine smile lighting up his face and accentuating his features. You were certain you felt your heart skip a beat.

“I’m sure,” he whispered, the look on his face showing his own surprise at the admission. “I…I don’t know what it is about you, [name], but I feel…safe with you. I’ve felt the tension and stress kind of…” He looked up at the curved ceiling, searching for the word, “It’s sort of melted away…”

“It has?” you breathed

“Yes. And seen as we’ve only got a few hours left together on this plane, I thought it might be nice to just…rest.”

“I would like that.”

“Good, but how about we just…” he motioned for you to switch sides, so you stood up, shimmying between him and the seats in front, his hands falling momentarily on your hips before he quickly pulled them away. “Sorry.”

You didn’t say another word, as you both settled down into your new seats. He unfolded a blanket emblazoned with Britannic Air’s logo, and, as you shuffled over to him and placed your head against his shoulder, draped the blanket over you. Your eyes fell closed immediately, your body relaxed as you nuzzled against him. _What is happening? Why doesn’t this feel strange? I guess he needs human contact…I guess I do too. Actually, I know I do…Am I so desperate that I would latch onto a complete stranger for comfort, and warmth?_

After a few minutes, the main lights went off in the cabin, and it wasn’t long before the faint sound of someone snoring near the front began to drift around, mixing with the soft lighting and adding to the sleepy atmosphere. Despite trying his hardest to remain awake, Bucky’s eyes slowly fell to half-mast, then, when they felt as heavy as iron, closed completely. His head came to rest against the top of yours, and the hours rushed by, both of you engulfed in a peaceful sleep for the first time in many years.

Almost exactly 7 hours and 5 minutes after taking off from Washington Dulles, the plane touched down at London Heathrow. You both woke slowly, stretching and smiling at each other. It took a moment for either of you to realise that you weren’t moving anymore, and that most passengers were now stood up around you, leaning on seat backs with their bags in hand or thrown over shoulders, impatiently shuffling as they waited for those pesky first class and business class passengers to get away. _Geez, am I this much of a pain, usually?_

You rose to your feet and turned, offering a nod of thanks to a bespectacled man who stood back to allow you access to the overhead compartment. You reached up to grab your bag, but Bucky got there first, gently tugging your small case down and placing it in front of your feet.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes watering from, you assumed, the last remnants of your tiredness. You watched as he pulled out a heavy black rucksack, just as the line started to move ahead of you. “Here we go then.”

“Here we go,” he echoed, planting his hat back on his head before shuffling forwards and down the aisle. The flight attendant who had visited your seat each time, was standing by the exit. Bucky offered her a small smile and a nod of his cap. She bid him goodbye and turned to you, smiling broadly and raising her eyebrows.

The walk up the jet bridge and into the wide, glass and steel corridor was quiet. As you shadowed the crowd, pulling your wheeled case at the side of you and following the bright yellow signs to Arrivals, a knot twisted in your stomach. The path continued for what seemed like miles, twisting and turning, taking you up escalators and along travellators before the 10-foot high ‘Welcome to London’ sign appeared in front of you. Imagery that you would normally find cliché; the Union Jack flag, English Bulldogs, red telephone boxes and pretty much anything royal family-related, all overwhelmed you as you and Bucky came to a standstill. _Home_.

He took your elbow and tugged you to one side, out of the way of the other passengers. “So, erm…I have to go this way,” he frowned, pointing in the direction of a door with a sign saying ‘Non-EU/British Citizens’.

“Yeah, I guess so. And I’m…” you bobbed your head towards another door. “I’m that way…”

He slapped his passport and travel documents against his left hand and rocked on his heels. “Well, it was…it was good to meet you, [name]. Really good.”

“You too, Bucky. It was an… _experience_.” You both laughed, averting your eyes downwards.

“I’m sorry again, for scaring you…”

You held your hand up, “No, please don’t be. We were both a little tactless at times, but it’s all right, we’re human.”

“I guess we are,” he smiled. As a voice called out an announcement over the loudspeaker, he stepped forward, his hand reaching up to your cheek. You shuffled closer, the awkwardness palpable, just like your initial meeting 7 hours earlier. He placed a kiss on your cheek and instantly pulled back, his face rosy. “Goodbye, [name]. Thank you for not judging me.”

“I…never would,” you said, choking on your words. “Goodbye, Bucky. Good luck in Scotland.” You stood frozen to the spot, staring at each other, until you plucked up the courage to make the first move, taking a step backwards and giving him a small wave before turning and wandering off towards Passport Control.

\---

You must have stood at the bend of the carousel, awaiting your luggage, for 20 minutes before a large neon pink case pushed its way through the opening at the other end. As a rainbow assortment of suitcases, holdalls and musical instrument cases made their way around the bends, you huffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your hands on your hips. “Come on, _please_ ,” you muttered to yourself, “I just want to go home and sleep.”

Finally, you spotted yours; a vintage brown leather case, covered in stickers from all of your travels.” _I’m_ the cliché,” you chuckled, reaching forward, misjudging the speed of the carousel and nearly falling onto it.

“Whoa, whoa…” came a voice, rushing over and taking hold of the bag and your waist and pulling you both to safety.

You looked round. “Bucky!”

He smiled as he held you close. “Fancy continuing our conversation?”

“Sure," you beamed, "I know just the place…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know each other

Rain tapped on the roof of the black cab as it dashed through the heart of London. You would never get tired of seeing the city at night; the bright lights of the Houses of Parliament and the Tower beautifully obscured by the raindrops chasing each other down the window. It seemed like such a long time since you'd had a moment like this, making memories to cherish. You felt slightly foolish, to be so in awe of a city...a place...

A hand glided up your back, coming to rest on your shoulder. You glanced behind you.

"Where did you go?" Bucky whispered.

A sleepy smile crept across your face, "I was savouring the moment...that's all."

"Me too," he said, rolling his lips. The cab driver peered at you both through his rear-view mirror. Bucky coughed, changing the subject. "So, where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere that shouldn’t be too crowded at this time of night.”

\---

Just over an hour after leaving Heathrow Terminal 5, the cab turned right off the main road and onto a cobbled street, the damp stones reflecting the soft light of the streetlamps. The driver pulled up outside a neat looking pub with double-fronted bay windows, and large brass lamps standing proudly at the edges of the building.

“Thank you very much,” you smiled at the driver, as Bucky opened the door and stepped out into the night with your bags in his hands, his eyes fixed on the impressive building. You climbed out and opened your purse, holding your hand up to him as he began to offer to pay. “It’s all right, I’ve got it.” You handed the driver the fare and bid him goodnight, then turned around.

“Wow,” Bucky sighed, as the cab pulled away. “This place looks interesting.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” you smirked at him, before glancing up at the name. _The Prospect of Whitby_ shone in vivid gold against the jet black painted frontage, as a sign with a 19 th century ship sailing the waves swung back and forth in the breeze that whipped up around you. “This pub was once _the_ place to be, if you were a smuggler.”

“Really…?” he murmured, giving it another look and squinting his eyes. “Wow. You live around here, then?”

“Uh huh.” You pointed behind him, towards a bend in the street. “I’ve got a little apartment, up that way.”

“Right,” he nodded, just as the breeze came back, only this time colder and faster. You shivered and he smiled at you, “Shall we go in, then?”

“Yes, of course.”

He readjusted his rucksack over his shoulder, then picked up your heavy bags as if they were filled with nothing but feathers. Your mouth dropped, and it took you a moment to open the door for him. Stepping inside, the warm air felt like a shock to the system, the soft orange glow from the open fires instantly soothing you both. You glanced around, finding the place near empty, except for a few groups clearly deep in conversation. You checked your watch; 11:00pm. “We’ve got time for one or two…” You pointed in the direction of two high back green leather arm chairs by a small fire in the corner. “Why don’t you go and sit down whilst I order?”

“Err, sure,” he said.

“Water again or…something stronger?”

“Stronger, I think,” he smiled, then set off weaving between tables with the bags and settled himself into the chair facing away from the rest of the room.

You headed over to the bar and leaned against it, folding your arms. A television at the far end caught your eye as you waited for the bartender. It looked like a news report, and having been away from all outside communication on your flight, you moved a little closer to it. A smartly dressed reporter was standing in front of the Potomac River, across the way from what was left of the Triskelion. As she was introduced by the anchor-man, she fidgeted with her microphone, struggling to hide her anxiousness.

_“Thank you, Andrew. Yes, it’s been three days since flying aircraft carriers slammed into the global headquarters of SHIELD here in Washington DC, and investigators are finally being allowed onto the sight today…”_

“Three days,” you whispered to yourself.

_“As previously revealed here by the BBC; SHIELD, the organization once tasked with keeping the world safe from harmful forces and often associated with the Avengers, was brought crashing down in more ways than one, having being revealed to be a front for the long-thought-dead Nazi science division, HYDRA.”_

_“Since the events unfolded, there has been no official statement from any former members of SHIELD, but we have just been informed that Natasha Romanoff, one of the highest ranked members of the organization and the person responsible for leaking all of SHIELD's intel onto the internet, will be appearing in front of a hearing on Capitol Hill in the next few days.”_

_“Olivia, any news on former SHIELD operations in Britain?”_

_“A few pieces of chatter have come down the wires in the last few moments, Andrew. Five of their facilities in Britain have been pinpointed as being potentially HYDRA-affiliated, but these are early days still, and we don’t know just how far this virus infected the host. More on this as we hear it…”_

“HYDRA… _affiliated_.”

“Pardon?” came a gruff but friendly voice to your left.

You turned round to be faced with the familiar bartender, dressed in black with a towel over one shoulder. “Sorry, Tom, I was just talking to myself,” you smiled.

“No worries, darlin’,” he chuckled in his thick East London accent. “Bin a while since I’ve seen you round these parts, [name], how’s ya doin’?”

“I’m all right, thank you.”

“Good stuff. What can I get ya? The usual?” he asked, placing his hand on a bottle of vodka.

You held your hands up, “No…no thank you. I’ll have a pint of ale and a large white wine, please.” You glanced over your shoulder. Bucky was partially hidden from view, the elbows of his jacket poking out from behind the warm red leather.

“Ah, I see. Entertaining tonight?”

You scowled at him, holding his focus until the smile fell from his face. “He’s a friend, Tom, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

As he passed the drinks over, placing them on the bar in front of you, you handed him some cash and picked them up, following the same path as Bucky; weaving between tightly packed tables to the two chairs.

“So…” he smiled, taking the heavy glass tankard from your hands. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

“Sure,” you replied, glancing back up at the TV before sitting down and wriggling to get comfortable. “I just saw a news bulletin a minute ago, talking about SHIELD’s collapse and…” You swallowed, then continued in a faint whisper, “Were you involved in that?”

“Well…Is there any chance we can extend the no judgements policy to here?”

You nodded, “Absolutely. I’d like to know more about you, Bucky…so much more.”

He leaned forward, “In that case…yes, I was involved. About as involved as anyone could be, really.”

“Goodness.” You took a sip of wine and folded one leg over the other, “But you weren’t working with Steve and this Natasha Romanoff?”

He shook his head, his eyes pleading with you. “I wasn’t captured to be one of the good guys, [name].”

“I know that,” you sighed, looking up at the low ceiling. “Oh Bucky…”

“Please don’t judge me.”

You dropped your head down in haste. “I told you I would never…”

“I know,” he replied, holding his hands up, palms facing out, “I know you wouldn’t, but I have to hear you say it, because I feel like _I’m_ judging myself. I hate the things I’ve done, [name], I _hate_ them!”

“Hey,” you smiled, placing your glass down and shuffling to the edge of your seat. You dropped your hand on his knee and met his gaze, “Bucky, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but know this: I’m beginning to work things out for myself, and the ideas that are racing through my mind at a mile a minute are tragic.”

He blinked rapidly, holding back his emotions.

“Those bastards…HYDRA? I figure they kept you as a…well, a prisoner of war, really. They controlled you and they _froze_ you. Not one ounce of judgement should land at your feet, you hear? _Not one_.”

“Thank…you,” he mumbled. “I'm not sure about that, but you’ve been so kind to me.”

“As have you to me. That should be proof enough, surely? You’re away from the clutches of those ‘people’ and you’re here with me, making conversation, occasionally laughing…being supportive and understanding… _you are good_.”

He gave a sleepy smile and gulped down half of the ale, making a face as the strong alcohol hit his tongue. You laughed. “Geez, it’s been a _very_ long time since I’ve drunk British beer and I forgot how much of a kick it has.”

“You better believe it,” you winked, sinking back into your chair and continuing with your drink.

“Oh, that sounds like fighting talk.” He pulled another face and shook his head, then laughed. “All right, changing the subject. Can you tell me more about yourself? About your work?”

“I already told you,” you said, rolling your neck and opening your eyes to gaze at him.

“I know you told me what you did, but not the places you’ve been…stories from your childhood, college…I want to hear them.”

“W…why?” you whispered.

“Because I like you, [name], and I want to know more about you. I missed a lot of life during my time on ice…let me live vicariously through your experiences.”

\---

As the conversation continued and the minutes rolled into hours, one drink turned into four and the pub became all yours, as every other patron went home to sleep. Tom busied himself, tidying up and placing more logs on the fire for you when he brought over each round of drinks. Bucky asked most of the questions, ranging from trips you’d been on, to ex-boyfriends, to learning how to ride a bike…

“And one day Dad just took the training wheels off, and I was so scared,” you frowned, curling your stockinged legs up in the chair, “But then he said to me, ‘[name], _I_ think you’re ready but only you can know for certain…so what say we try two wheels, and if you fall over, I’ll catch you and help you to get back on?’” You bit your lip, nostrils flaring as your emotions tried to escape.

“And did…did you manage it?”

You nodded, “I don’t think me and that bike were separated for an entire decade.”

“Sounds like you had the best father anyone could wish for.”

“I…I did…” You downed the last of your wine and clamped your hand over your mouth, overwhelmed by tears.

“Whoa, hey…” he sighed, pushing out of his chair and dropping to his knees in front of you, one hand holding yours and the other rubbing your back. You tried to speak through your spluttering, but he shook his head. “Come on, it’s all right, [name], cry your tears…”

You grabbed hold of his shirt, a river of tears flowing down your cheeks as you scrunched your eyes up, now stinging and painful. He kissed your hair and hugged you close, whispering soft words in your ear. After a few minutes, you felt yourself calming down. “I’m okay n…now,” you muttered, releasing your grip.

He leaned back and gazed at you, “Sure?”

“Yes.” The sleeves of your shirt dampened as you wiped at your eyes, nodding. You laughed awkwardly through the remnants. “I seem to k…keep saying this, so it might’ve lost its m…meaning but th…thank you, Bucky.”

“Don’t mention it, we’re good for each other.” He stood up and returned to his chair.

\---

Another hour passed by, and Bucky glanced up at the grandfather clock on the other side of the room. _2:00am_.He admired his last drop of ale, twirling it round in the glass before swallowing it, then looked at you, lost in thought.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered.

You sunk lower in the chair, your demeanour a combination of sleepy and tipsy. “It’s nothing, I’m just…” You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I’m home after being in DC for weeks, and for a change I’m sat in this pub with a nice man, laughing and having fun and…” You dropped your head into your hand and sighed. “Soon it’ll be time to leave and then I’m back to being on my own again.”

“[name]…”

“Don’t…don’t say anything to try and make me feel better, Bucky. I know I sound melodramatic, but I wasn’t looking for sympathy, honest. Just how it is.”

“What happened to you?” he breathed.

“How do you mean?”

“Something happened in your life to make you so…sad.” He reached out and placed his hand on your knee.

You dropped your feet back on the floor and shifted forwards, watching him pull away as your hands curled around the edges of the chair arms. “I think we should call it a night, don’t you?” You pushed up, weaving slightly as those four large glasses of wine reached your head.

He stood up and reached out to steady you. “[name], please. You don’t have to run away from me.”

A tear escaped and rolled down your cheek. You wiped it away. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to pass my problems onto you. Certainly not when you’re recovering from that…living hell with HYDRA.”

“I _want_ to help you. I told you that already, and I wasn’t messing around.” He placed his hands on your upper arms and made you look at him. “I want us to continue supporting and understanding each other, all right?”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’ about it. You can tell me anything, I promise.”

You hastily wiped away more tears and nodded, momentarily lost in his eyes. “All right, but I, erm…I’d rather talk somewhere else, though.” You took a deep breath and licked your lips. “Where are you staying tonight?”

He frowned, “Well, I...I was originally going to catch another flight straight up to Scotland, so I didn’t think I’d need anywhere.” He shrugged, “So, I…erm, I don’t know.”

“I do.” You held your hand out to him and he took it, his focus switching from your face to your interlocked fingers, and back.

“[name], what are y…”

“Please, I…I need someone to talk to. Don’t take back your promise now.”

“All right,” he breathed, his eyes searching your face. He picked up the bags, whilst you paid the bill, then lead the way back out into the cold, rainy night.

“This way…” you said, beckoning him to follow you as you walked down the street, your legs criss-crossing now and again as the alcohol impaired your balance and the tiredness impaired your vision.

The area was completely deserted, black shadows cast across dark paths, with only the faint sound of the River Thames on the other side of the old dockland buildings to keep you both company. You turned a bend and looked over your shoulder. Bucky was only a few feet behind you, ready to catch you if you stumbled on your heels. You flashed him a smile and quickly fell against a door, slamming into it, arms first.

“Geez, [name]!” he said in a muted screech. He pulled you to your feet and brushed your bedraggled hair off your face. “You okay?”

“Uh…huh,” you returned, staring at him. “I’m sorry for my yo-yo mood tonight, Bucky…I really am…”

“Forget about it, okay? Let’s just get you inside. You live here?”

You nodded, then lowered yourself down and began searching around in your small case for your keys. “Got ‘em,” you grinned as you stood up straight and turned to face the door. You frowned as you realised it was keypad entry, then, somehow, remembered the number and punched it in. The door buzzed and you leaned heavily against it, stumbling forwards as the lock released and the door flew open.

You lead the way to the elevator and pressed the button. Within seconds, the doors opened and you both got in, standing side by side. You looked up at him. _My goodness, you’re handsome._

“What number?”

“Huh?”

“Which floor?”

“Oh…four, no…five? Yes, five.”

He paused for a moment, then pressed 5. The elevator moved at quite a pace, reaching your destination just as you laid your head against him. You shook your head to wake yourself up, then fumbled with the keys.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Trying to get into my apartment,” you responded, matching his tone of voice. You found the key you figured was the right one, then tried to put it in the lock, to no avail.

“Here, let me.” He dropped his rucksack on a case and took the keys gently from your grasp, working at the lock, whilst you leant against his back, resting your head between his shoulder blades and closing your eyes.

Without thinking, you placed your hands either side, running them down his back and feeling every muscle. “Oh, Bucky,” you murmured.

The key worked, and the doors parted to reveal your apartment, straight off the elevator. He pulled the cases and bags into the room then turned slowly, taking hold of you before you fell over. “All right, sleepyhead,” he smiled, helping you inside. “I thought you were used to travelling.”

“I am, but not usually with a bottle of wine or two after landing…” You reached out and flicked the light switch, before he lead you over to a chair by a console table.

“Wow,” he sighed, looking at his surroundings.

The apartment was huge. Built inside an old warehouse, the walls that faced him were bare stone, with burgundy-red painted iron pillars dotted around the space. The windows, near floor to ceiling, were uncovered, and lights from outside shimmered across the floor and onto the sleek furnishings. He moved over to look outside, and gasped at the unobstructed view of the river. “This place is…amazing, [name].”

“Yeah…it’s not bad.” You stood up and walked over to the open plan kitchen, switching under-cabinet lights on and flinging the fridge door open. “Water? Coffee?” you asked, leaning in slightly too far and holding your hand out to steady yourself.

“Water…please,” he frowned. You handed him a bottle and beckoned him over to the couch. He sat down and stretched out, then clasped his hands together around the bottle. “So…I’ve said that word a lot recently, haven’t I?”

“You have,” you smiled, dropping down beside him and pulling your feet up.

Your skirt rode up slightly, revealing the top of your stockings and catching his eye. “Are you o...okay, [name]?”

“I’m fine now…” You pushed up against him a little more. “Now I’m home.”

“Will you talk to me now, then? Tell me what’s troubling you?”

You shook your head and chewed your lip. “No.”

“Why not?”

You took the bottle out of his hand and placed both on a side table, before brushing your fingertips down his face. “I don’t want to talk _at all_ , anymore. We’ve done enough of that for one day…” You leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips. “…Wouldn’t you agree?”

He cautiously lifted his hand up, running it across your cheek and up into your hair, his eyes meeting yours. “[name]…”

Your breath caught in your throat, hearing him say your name so close. You placed a finger on his lips and smiled. “Aren’t you going to kiss _me_ , now?”

He pulled your head towards him, his lips meeting yours with intense heat. You smirked against him and ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at it as he moaned softly. His focus turned to your neck, his lips falling in a straight line right down the middle as you tilted your head back and sighed. You shirked out of your jacket and climbed onto his lap, your legs either side of him. His hands fell to your waist as you reached out to place yours on the back of the couch, steadying yourself as his lips landed on your skin.

You gasped and looked down at him. “Bucky!”

He turned his attention to your shirt, grabbing the back of it and tugging it over your head as you lifted your arms. You bit your lip as he ran his hands all over you, before your lips met again. You were both moving with some pace, breathing heavy and hands shaking.

Just as you began to gather up his shirt, he broke away from your kiss, holding his hands up. ”No, stop. I can’t do…this.”


	4. Chapter 4

You let go of his shirt and slouched, “Why not?” You weaved again.

“Because you’re not in the right frame of mind, [name].”

“What are you talking about? Yes I am.” You leaned forward, trying to place a kiss on his chest.

He pressed against your shoulders, pushing you back and once again making you look at him. “No, you aren’t. I don’t want to be responsible for you making a mistake, okay? I’m sorry.”

You tried to catch a breath, your face suddenly appearing wide awake and alert. “Oh my gosh…” You touched your lips with your fingertips. “Oh my gosh, I’m…I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be,” he sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re a beautiful woman, [name], and it’s been a long, long time since I’ve been this close to a woman...”

“Are you…you know, self-conscious about…” You placed your hand over his bandaged arm. “Because it doesn’t bother me, Bucky, I…”

He rolled his lips and looked away, “It is a factor, yes, but I’m more concerned about you.”

“Why?” You were hit with the sudden realisation that you were still sat on his lap. You stood up and refocused your attention on him, rolling his shirt back down. His muscles were well-defined. “Why are you being so proper?”

“Because we only met a few hours ago…”

“So? People do things like this all the time…”

“I’m _not_ one of those people, [name], and I’m honestly a little bit hurt that you think I would be…”

“Well I am…”

He frowned, “What?”

“ _I’m_ one of those people you don’t want to be associated with.” You turned on your heel and walked over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and shivering as the cold air hit your bare skin. “It’s easier than a relationship, and I don’t tend to get hurt.”

“That’s not a good way to view the world.”

“Well, it works for me.” Reaching in and seizing a bottle of wine, you grabbed a corkscrew out of a drawer and pulled the cork, all while he stood watching, his mouth gaping.

“[name], it’s nearly 3 in the morning, why are you opening that?”

“This is what girls like me do…those who have nothing _better_ to do.” You licked your lips and took a swig straight from the bottle. “Those of us who bring gentlemen back to our place and don’t…”

“Stop!” He rushed over to you, his right arm wrapping around you in an embrace, whilst his left prized the bottle from your fingers. It wasn’t a fair competition. “This…” he shook the bottle, “ _This_ is why going any further would be a mistake, [name]. It never even crossed my mind until about an hour ago, but you’ve hardly been without a drink for a minute since we sat down on that plane…”

You tried feebly to wrestle the bottle back, but to no avail. “What’s your point?!”

“This is your crutch, isn’t it?”

“My _what?_ ” you asked as you nearly fell over, reaching out to grab the countertop just in time.

“Your coping mechanism...the thing you hide behind. Drinking numbs your pain, and all that other _stuff_ releases you from this…prison…”

You scoffed.

He took you by your upper arms, his face full of concern. “Please, tell me what happened to you. _Please_.”

“No, I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?” he asked, almost stomping his feet in anguish.

“Because I don't want to…”

“All right…” He stood up straight and released his hold. “So, what _do_ you want to do?”

You dropped your head, trying your best to ignore his questioning.

“Damn it, [name]!” he yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. “Tell me what you want!”

“To be touched!” You snatched the bottle out of his hand and walked towards the couch, taking another gulp for courage, and to calm your shaking hands. “To be...held, to feel _something_. I want someone to spend the night who isn’t one of my girlfriends from work. I want to pretend that I’m in love, and that someone loves me…even if just for one…solitary…night…” Your breathing faltered, as tears pricked your eyes. “I want someone… _you_ …to look me in the eyes and… _lie to me_...” The strength in your voice evaporated, as your arm fell to your side, the bottle banging against your thigh as your shoulders dropped.

He took a step towards you, his features softened. “Oh, [name], I can’t do that…” He took another step, opening his arms to you.

“Why not?” you sobbed, placing the bottle down on the coffee table and trying to push him back. He was much too strong for you, his arms fully encircling you and holding you close. “ _Please_ , just lie to me.”

He kissed your hair and spoke in a whisper, staying close to your ear, “No. I…I care about you too much to lie. I don’t want to throw away whatever it was we started on that plane, and what we felt as we were saying goodbye in the airport.”

His cold hand made you jump slightly as it came to rest against your bare back. You turned your head, burying your face in his shoulder and weeping. After standing there for a minute with your arms hanging loose by your sides, you finally lifted them and wrapped them around him.

“Look at this,” he murmured; giving you a gentle squeeze, “This is how it feels to be held by someone who truly cares.” He pulled back to look in your eyes. You sniffed. “I understand that we’ve only known each other a short time, but…I feel a connection to you, [name], and I _know_ you feel it too. You’ve just got lost…and I understand that like you can’t imagine.”  
  
"Why can't we just be there for each other, in the moment?"  
  
"Because you're worth more than a fleeting moment, [name]. So much more."

You sighed and pulled away from him, wiping the last of your tears away. “I…I should sleep, but…” You felt a sudden chill and looked down, realizing you were still half-undressed. You searched around and spotted your shirt on the floor, swiping it up and hastily pulling it on. “Ahem…thank you, Bucky…for being the only good man I’ve known s…since my…D…Dad.”

Sadness covered his face, “I’m sorry to hear that…”

You shook your head, wincing as dehydration caused you pain. “I…I’ll survive,” you muttered. As he looked on, desperate to say more to offer comfort, you took a few steps backwards and thumbed behind you, “I’m…erm…sleep. The other bedroom is that way,” you said, pointing towards the opposite side of the imposing room. You stepped back over to him, cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. You both paused, your faces just inches apart, and searched each other’s features.   
  
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling himself drawn to you. "What are you doing, [name]?"  
  
"Nothing. Night, Bucky,” you whispered, moving away again.

“Goodnight,  [name]…” he frowned. “I wish you’d talk to me.”

“Like you said, I…I’m not in the right f…frame of mind…”

He held his hand up, “All right, get some sleep. But I want us to talk about this in the morning, okay?”

You rolled your lips and gave a brief nod, before spinning round and stumbling towards your bedroom. He jolted forwards to try and aid you but you refused, holding your arms out to balance yourself as you crossed the room. Slamming the door closed, you fell against a tall chest of drawers in the darkness, knocking a few perfume bottles to the floor. You cursed under your breath and fell into bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

Bucky scowled, his eyes fixed on your bedroom. He wanted to go and knock on the door, to see if you were all right, but the way you were feeling right now gave him his answer. Besides, it sounded like you were already out for the count. He curled his bandaged arm into a fist and banged it against the brick wall by the window, his attention caught by the bright lights of the city bouncing up off the river. “What the hell happened?” he muttered. “That doesn’t seem like the same woman I met on the plane…” He groaned and wandered over to the other bedroom, opening the door and seeing the king-size bed, covered with navy blue and white bedding. He leant against the door jamb and breathed out heavily, “Best place I’ve slept in a while…”

_“D…Dad…?”_

_“It’s all right, [name]…please don’t be afraid.”_

_“What are you doing? Let him go!”_

_Laughter._

_“No, sweetheart, look away. Please…look a…”_  
  
Gunshot.  


You sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath as sweat trickled down your face. You looked at the clock by your bed: 5:07am. You covered your mouth with your hand and sobbed; it had been a while since you’d had this nightmare. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you rolled over and stared at the bright red display of the clock, watching the second-counter blink on and off, your body not moving another inch for the rest of the night.

_Screaming. So much screaming. Heart pounding. Looking down…rooftops. People running in all directions at street level. Bright sunlight. Glancing through the crosshairs. Two men lying dead on a pavement, bullet wounds in their heads. Papers from an open briefcase whipped up by the wind. More screaming. Sirens. Yelling. Ringing in the ears. A spent shell case falling to the floor. Screaming. Yelling. Sirens closing in. Soldier… Soldier! Get your ass back to the van! Boots stomping on concrete. A black rifle case thrown into a van. Door sliding closed. Cold. Nothingness._

Bucky leapt out of bed, wrestling with the covers that seemed to have wrapped themselves all around him, trapping him. He stared at the bed, covering his ears to drown out the noises. Everything subsided slowly, except the siren. It took him a moment to realise that was real, coming from outside on the empty London streets. He tugged a sheet off the bed and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain back and settling down on the window seat, one leg on the cushion, the other on the floor, ready for a quick getaway. His head lolled against the glass, his eyes falling to half-mast but never closing fully.

\---  
You woke to the faint sound of talking in the kitchen. The morning light was, thankfully, soft, helping to ease you out of bed and back into the land of the living. You placed your hands on your head, the effects of last night’s alcohol brutal as you stood up. You looked down. “Last night’s clothes…oh no, not again…” You felt sick. “B…Bucky? What did I do?” You changed into your pyjamas and threw on a robe, tying the cord and walking slowly out of the room.

The TV was on, turned to the BBC, and Bucky was in the kitchen, staring at it whilst drinking orange juice. “Good morning,” he said, offering a small smile.

“Morning.” You rubbed your eyes and walked over to the kitchen island, resting one hand on it and pressing the other against your temple.

He lowered his head, “Juice?”

You gave a slow nod. “Please.”

He poured a glass and handed it to you, “I hope you don’t mind me routing around in your kitchen…”

“No…no, it’s fine.” You took a sip and closed one eye, tipping your head to the side and looking at him. “Last night, did I…?”

He nodded.

“But we didn’t…?”

He shook his head.

“Oh thank God.”

“You were… _not_ happy,” he said.

You groaned. “I’m sorry…” You climbed onto a stool and rested your elbows, dropping your head against your hands. “I’m so sorry. I…I’m guessing there was alcohol involved?”

“ _Oh yes_.” He walked over to the toaster just as it popped, taking out four slices and covering them with butter. He took a bite of one and sat the plate down between you, his eyes darting between you and the TV. “How often does this happen, [name]?”

“Never. They’re usually gone by the time I get up.”

“Oh geez…” He looked up at the ceiling, interlocking his fingers behind his head before dropping them again. “I didn’t mean…look, I’ve got to admit, this is all a shock to me.”

You nibbled on a piece of toast and winced, feeling your cheeks burn. “I can imagine,” you sighed. “I didn’t seem like this kind of girl when we met, huh?”

He laughed, “No. Not at all.”

“What can I say, I’m very good at hiding my true self.”

He shook his head, “No, I don’t believe that the woman I saw last night is your true self. The woman I met on the plane…who gave me all that support and encouragement… _that’s_ your true self. Don’t get the two mixed up, please.”

You shrugged and took another bite.

“Remember what you said to me? No judgements?”

“Uh huh…”

“Well, I’m putting it out there right now, the same applies for you.”

“We’re not getting into this ag….”

“[name]!” He gulped down the last of his juice and slammed the glass down, sending a hairline crack running up the side. “You’ve been stuck in this cycle for a long time, from what I can tell. It’s time to get everything out in the open. What _happened_ to you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader shares a secret with Bucky

“All right!” you snapped, holding your hands up to him, “All…right…” 

Bucky released his grip from the cracked glass and watched as you pushed off the stool and turned towards the living area. “I didn’t mean to be so…” He looked back down, just as the glass crumbled on the counter top. 

“Forget about it,” you whispered, running your fingers through your hair before gathering your long strands to one side and pulling them over your shoulder. You sat down on the couch, tucking one leg underneath, and looked at him, your hands coming to rest on your lap. “Remember me telling you about my d…” You rolled your lips and averted your eyes, trying to compose yourself. “…About my dad, on the plane?” 

He nodded, collecting the remote and muting the TV,  “Yes. He passed away a few years ago…” 

“He didn’t pass away, really, he…” You blinked, coaxing your tears back from the brims of your eyes, and breathing out slowly. “He was m…murdered.” 

Bucky's mouth dropped. He looked down at his hands to see them shaking, the fingers on his left hand twitching nervously. “H…how?” he asked, shuffling round the kitchen island and resting his back against the other side. 

You felt sick, sitting in front of him in your robe, about to relive the worst night of your life, but there was no way of backing out now. 

“Dad and I were always so close…much more than Mum and I ever were.” You lifted your focus to him and frowned, “She’s very difficult to love sometimes. I think she always preferred Joanna, in all honesty. Dad, on the other hand…I was his little girl, I shared his love of history and…” A tear escaped, making a dash for freedom down your cheek. You wiped it away with your sleeve and gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?” 

“No,” he whispered, moving to the comfy chair opposite you. He sat down and clasped his hands together, “I love how much you love him. _Please_ go on…” 

“Well…needless to say, when I got my degree and eventually my job, he was thrilled. Mum always wanted me to take over the shop with my sister, but I didn’t want to deal with all that. I just wanted to bring exhibitions and artefacts to the people, a little piece of an exotic, ancient civilisation brought to London. D…dad was proud of me, though, Bucky…” You laughed through your tears. 

“I have no doubt, [name]…” 

“I can’t even describe how excited he’d get anytime I invited him to come down and get a glimpse of our newest exhibition. We’d hang around until everyone else had gone home for the night, then we’d walk around the empty museum for hours, telling stories and bombarding each other with facts.” You sniffed, and whispered. “It was perfect.” 

“Sounds it,” he murmured. A few silent moments passed, his eyes fixed on you wiping away more tears and staring blankly at the floor. He shifted, caught between wanting to comfort you and wanting to give you space. “[name]…how did it happen?” 

You rolled your lips and lifted your gaze to him, “Wrong place, wrong time…or, not.” 

\--- 

“Goodnight, [name], Mr [last name],” the museum security guard said as he walked past your office at the end of his shift. 

“Night Bill,” you and your dad said in unison, instantly bursting into fits of laughter at the impromptu chorus. 

The sound of Bill whistling as he walked down the empty corridor always made you smile, but today even more so, because you and your Dad were going exploring. A new exhibition of European history was opening tomorrow, so now was the perfect opportunity to take a look before the crowds arrived. 

Dad leaned over your desk, picking up a leaflet and flopping back down in his chair, grinning. You glanced over at him and chuckled as his smile grew wider. He had fine grey hair, and along with his stylish glasses and burgundy-coloured jumper over shirt and tie, he looked every inch the classic English gent and you couldn’t have loved him any more completely.  

“So what’s in store today, sweetheart?” He asked as you returned to staring at your computer screen. 

“Hang on…one…second…” you muttered, finishing off an email to your boss. As you hit the ‘send’ button, you lifted your hand away from the keyboard and spun your desk chair to face him. “Okay, I’m back in the room.” 

He smiled at you and glanced back down at his reading material, “What’s the thinking behind this exhibition?” 

“Well, it’s all about modern European history, circa 1900 to the present. A little different from the usual ancient stuff…” 

“Fascinating,” he whispered, flicking through the pages. “Both World Wars?” 

You nodded, “Yes. Some of the artefacts were really difficult to get clearance from the Government.” 

“My goodness! Now I _really_ can’t wait to see them!” 

You laughed, “Let’s go, then.” You rose to your feet and watched as he followed your lead. 

He pulled you into a hug, kissing your hair, “I am so proud of you, [name].” 

“Thank you, Dad. That means everything to me,” you whispered, squeezing him tight. 

“Your mum is too, don’t forget that…” 

“Is she, though?” You pulled back and frowned at him. “She hardly speaks to me.” 

“She wanted you to take over our business, but when you decided on you own path, she found herself caught in a difficult place. She loves you and she’s pleased you’re doing so well for yourself…she just finds it difficult to admit she was wrong.” 

You rolled your lips, tears rising. “I wish she’d just come down with you one day and we could talk things through…we’re stuck in li…limo right now, Dad.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I’ll talk to her.” 

You returned to his embrace and took a deep breath, staying in place for a long while, as your tears slowly evaporated. 

The sound of whistling down the corridor brought you back into the room, and you parted, turning around and sticking your head out of your office doorway, “Hey, Sanjay,” you smiled,  watching a tall man in deep blue uniform walk towards you. 

“Evening, [name]. Is it that time of the year again?” 

“Uh huh,” you said, beckoning Dad to the door so you could lock it. “We’re heading up to the exhibition now.” 

“Awesome.” He waved. “Hi, Mr. [last name]. It’s great to see you again.” 

“Evening, Sanjay, how’s the little one?” 

“She’s not so little anymore, sir. Weighing in at 13 pounds already,” he beamed. 

“Good to hear.” Dad reached out and shook the security guards hand, “Give my regards to Pia, won’t you.” 

“I will.” He spun his ring of keys around his finger and glanced back and forth down the corridor. “Well, I guess I should continue my walk around. Have a good evening you two, I think this exhibition is a winner.” 

“So glad to hear it,” you smiled, feeling proud at his words. “Good evening.” 

Walking through the museum was more akin to a stroll through the most breath-taking cathedral, with vaulted ceilings held 60 feet closer to the heavens by magnificent carved stone columns, all of it centuries old. Intricately crafted wood panels lined the corridors that linked these vast halls, the cool marble beneath your feet echoing your meandering footsteps, as you and Dad admired the statues of the great historians and explorers like you were seeing them for the very first time. 

Your laughter resonated throughout the empty museum as you walked through another hall, banishing the eerie quiet that otherwise permeated the place. 

“And then we took you and JoJo to Whitby to see the Abbey, do you remember?” 

“Of course I do! Climbing all 199 steps up that hill to see the birthplace of Dracula? It scared the crap out of me, Dad!” 

“Me too,” he chuckled, patting your hand that was tucked inside his looped arm. “But it was fun, watching you and your sister playing hide and seek in the ruins.”

 “Yeah, I kicked her butt at that game, you’ve gotta admit.” 

“I think you’re right, you were _very_ competitive.” He kissed your brow and sighed as you headed towards the exhibition entrance. “Happy days, sweetheart.” 

“Very.” 

He brought you both to a stop at the doorway. Floor to ceiling banners hung either side of the wide entrance, covered in a collage of modern historical items; the Enigma machine, POW camp items, shredded flags of rebel uprisings, all under the title of _Europe 1900-Now: The Path Back To Peace._

Dad took a deep breath, “Good lord,” he whispered. 

You moved to catch his focus, “Dad, are you all right?” 

“Y…yes, I just…I…” He shook himself out of his daze and removed his glasses, pulling a cloth out of a pocket in his smart grey trousers, and cleaning the lenses. “I find all this modern stuff very… daunting, [name].” 

“How do you mean?” 

“Well…all these horrors, these wars and conflicts…they all happened just a generation or two ago, right in our backyard. We often speak of the atrocities like they happened so long ago as to be ancient history in their own right, but they’re within touching distance really.” 

You swallowed, feeling a mixture of dishearten-ment at his first reaction, and concern for him. “Do you want to forget this one and go check out the Darwin exhibition again? I know how much you loved that one.” 

He waved you off, “No, no, it’s all right, sweetheart. Let’s have a look around.” 

You nodded, switched the light on, and watched as he walked forward into the room, looking left and right to decide where to start. He chose left, to be faced with a glass box filled with tributes and commemorations to Queen Victoria's death. He lingered for a moment, before moving on to items relating to World War I, the Russian Revolution and Scandinavia. Another area focused on science and the splitting of the atom, and the invention of the television. More space dedicated to Armistice, Mussolini and the death of Lenin. 

Dad didn’t say a word, choosing instead to clasp his hands behind his back and peer at the captions by each object or photograph he looked at, and occasionally making faint noises of agreement or dismay at a situation. 

About an hour into your night tour, you wandered around a corner into another room dedicated to one subject: World War II. Dad looked up at the banners, his eyes starting at the top and working their way down to the base. He squeezed your hand and grinned broadly. There at the bottom, in small but highly visible letters were the words _‘Exhibition curated and organised by Ms. [full name]’_. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I never tire of reading your name on these things. It makes me so damn proud!” His voice echoed all around the room, causing you to glance around in all directions in case you were disturbing any of the invisible throngs of people. 

“Dad!” you giggled, your cheeks turning a bright shade of pink, “Thank you.” You kissed him on the cheek and he joined in the giggling, covering his hand with his mouth. 

The faint sound of whistling and keys jangling pulled your focus away from Dad, as you looked over your shoulder towards the empty corridor. “Sanjay,” you whispered. The sound ended and you frowned. “Huh?” 

“What on earth…” Dad muttered, pulling out of your grasp and stepping further into the new room. “[name], how did you…” 

You spun your head round to look at him and pulled a face. “What are you talking about, Dad?” 

He walked past the various pieces of Allied and German uniforms, past the weapons and the propaganda posters, straight over to a mocked-up train carriage in the corner of the exhibition space. “That…” 

_“What?”_ You huffed and followed him, coming to rest by his side. 

He lifted his hand and pointed a slightly shaky finger at a wooden chest, battered and worn, with black iron straps on either end, and a worn circle in the centre, where an emblem once stood. “Why have you got one of those?” 

“Dad, it’s just an equipment chest…” 

“No...no it isn’t, [name] and you know it. Why are you lying?” 

Your eyes grew wide as he turned to look at you. “I…I…I didn’t realise you kn…knew what…” 

“[name]! Why have you got one?” 

“Da…” 

“That chest belonged to Doctor Armin Zola, Johann Schmidt’s personal mad scientist…” 

“I…I know…” 

“And do you know what he _kept_ in that chest?” 

You looked away, embarrassed at being scolded by your father at age 27. “N…no.” 

“ _Experiments_ , [name]! Vials, blood samples, serums…his little box of tricks to use on prisoners of war!” 

“Why are you shouting at me?” 

“Because your Grandfather was one of those prisoners of war, so he’d think you should have a bit more respect for this kind of thing…” said an unfamiliar voice, accompanied by heavy footsteps. 

You and Dad spun round to the voice, frowning as a man stood in the doorway, wearing black army-like clothes and boots, and surrounded by half a dozen others.

“James Montgomery Falsworth _was_ your Grandfather, right?” he asked, a smirk on his face. 

“Who are you?” your Dad said, stepping slightly in front of you. 

“I’m the man who’s come to collect that chest.” 

“Oh, and what makes you think you can do that?” you scoffed, feeling bold. 

The man clicked his fingers and three more men came, parting the crowd of black-clad goons. You gasped as they dropped the badly beaten body of Sanjay on the floor between you, his breathing laboured and painful. 

“What the hell!?” you shouted, falling to your knees and placing a hand on the security guards back. “Who _are_ you people?!” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” the man smirked. 

“HYDRA…” Dad whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are spilled, and tempers fray

“And then he dra…”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bucky said, aghast, dragging you out of retelling your story. You clamped your mouth shut. “HYDRA?!”  
  
A shiver ran down your spine, as you whispered, “Yes.”  
  
“Wh…what the he…hell?!” He pressed his fingers against his temples, his eyes wide. “How? Why?”  
  
“If you let me finish, I…”  
  
He leapt to his feet and began pacing in between his chair and the coffee table. “This was, h…how many years ago?”  
  
“Five, and I…”  
  
His eyes searched wildly as he wracked his brain, trying desperately to remember something. “I…I have no memory of five years ago!” he growled, running his hands through his hair. “With the freezing and the m…missions, I…I have no…” He screamed, clenching his fists and looking around for something to smash.  
  
“Bucky…” you said, wincing as he lashed out at thin air, “Bucky…”  
  
“Mission. Complete. Wipe…Mission. Complete. Wipe… _Freeze_ …”   
  
“Bucky Barnes, _sit down!”_  
  
His wide eyes met yours and he gasped for breath, his shoulders dropped and his arms hanging loosely by his sides.  
  
“If you calmed down and let me continue the story, you might hear something you recognise!” you said sternly, keeping your eyes trained on him as he slumped back down into his chair and took sharp, shallow breaths.   
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologise.”  
  
Silence filled the room. You sighed and folded your arms, watching as he brought his breathing under control.   
  
A few minutes later. “Falsworth…” he mumbled, from behind his hands. “He was your…your Grandfather?”  
  
You gave a slow nod. “Yes.”  
  
“Wh…why didn’t you tell me?”   
  
“I…I didn’t want to make things…worse…”  
  
“Worse?” he scowled, his hand resting on the arm of the chair. “[name], I _knew_ him. I was a prisoner of war with him…we were Howling Commandos to… _together_. You should’ve told me…”  
  
“I was scared of bringing up anything from your past, Bucky…”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because of your reaction to hearing me say your name, for Pete’s sake! If I’d started pelting you with more information on that aeroplane you might’ve killed me! And judging by the way you just reacted a second ago, I _definitely_ made the right call.”  
  
His face softened, and settled on sadness. “Oh. Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand and dropped his focus, staring blankly at the floor. “I’m sorry I put you in that position…of being afraid to tell me something so important about yourself.”  
  
“Forget about it, its fine, Bucky.”  
  
“No it’s not,” he muttered. “Your Grandfather was a great man…one of the bravest I ever knew.” He looked at you and frowned. “You don’t have his name.”  
  
“Dad didn’t either…he said Granddad didn’t want his association with the Howling Commandos to be the defining characteristic of his children… _apparently_.”  
  
“You don’t agree?”  
  
You shook your head, “No. I would’ve loved to have his name. Its association with Steve Rogers, taking down HYDRA…you. I would’ve felt so proud.”  
  
“[name]…”  
  
“But Dad respected his wishes, so here I am, Miss [last name]…and I still ended up losing him anyway…”  
  
Bucky stood up and moved to the couch, waiting for you to shuffle slightly to the side before he sat down next to you. You picked up a large purple cushion and hugged it against your body; a barrier between the two of you, last night’s drunken embarrassment still playing on a loop in your head.   
  
He placed his hand gingerly on your shoulder and lowered his head to meet your gaze. “What happened next?”  
  
“D…dad had an argument with the man. I guess you could say he goaded him…told him that HYDRA was nothing more than a murderous cult…so, erm…” Tears cascaded down your cheeks again, your face contorting with horror, “The man shot Sanjay. Shot him dead…in the back of the head. No f…feeling, no emotion, just…” You clicked your fingers, “Dead. Gone.”  
  
“Oh geez…”  
  
“Then he ordered Dad to open the chest, and he was going to, but…”  
  
“But, what?”  
  
“I opened my mouth. I told him the contents were down in the vault, in the basement. We don’t keep articles inside, especially if they’re important in some way. I figured if Dad opened the chest and it was empty, this man would kill us both, just li…like San…Sanjay.” You clamped your hand over your mouth as you spluttered. The image of the security guard lying in a pool of blood was seared on your brain, and the harder you tried to forget it, the more vivid it became.   
  
“Oh, [name], I know it’s difficult…” he whispered, pulling you across for a hug. “But talking about it _will_ help.”  
  
“I’m not so sure,” you scoffed, wiping at more tears.  
  
“How did he respond…this man?”  
  
“He told me to show them, so I led everyone out of the room towards the nearest staircase…much to Dad’s frustration.”  
  
“He didn’t want you to get involved…”  
  
“No, and when Dad answered back to him, the man pulled me by my hair, right up to him.” You shivered and pushed away from his embrace, tugging the cushion higher in front of you. “He started putting his hands all over me, antagonising Dad, saying how he ‘would have a lot of fun with me, if I was the only prize he could get today.’ I felt sick…I could feel his breath on my neck…”  
  
“What did your Dad do?”  
  
“He threatened him. Told him not to lay another finger on me, or he’d regret it.”  
  
“Whoa. So d…did he leave you alone?”  
  
“The man just laughed, then shoved me forwards to start walking again. Dad and I stopped provoking him, after that. And when I shut up, I started listening.”  
  
Bucky shuffled round, bringing one leg up onto the couch cushion. “You overhead something?”  
  
You nodded. “As we headed down the stairwell, one of the goons tapped the leader on the shoulder with his gun. I slowed down just enough to listen. They were talking about somebody named…Pierson, or…Pierce, I think it was?”  
  
Bucky had a look on his face like he was seeing a ghost. His eyes were glazed over, his stare aimed a little over your shoulder. A mixture of unbridled terror, and anger.   
  
“Bu…cky?” You waved a hand in front of him and frowned. “You okay?”  
  
Slowly his demeanour changed, again. He went from looking intimidating, to almost childlike. His mouth dropped, ad his eyes were watery.   
  
_Mission, report.  
  
All targets acquired, and eliminated.  
  
Good. But you made a mistake.  
  
I don’t make mistakes, Sir.   
  
There was a witness.  
  
Sir?  
  
A small boy, about 7 or 8. He saw you eliminate the targets, because you couldn’t get yourself back in the van quick enough!  
  
But, Sir!  
_  
Bucky’s head jolted to the side, as he felt the sharp sting of Pierce’s hand across his face.   
  
Your eyes shot open, the whites visible as you held your hands inches from him, ready to bring him out of his trance.  
  
 _Because of your mistake I had to send the STRIKE team in. Took out the entire family at their kitchen table.  
  
That wasn’t necessary…  
  
It certainly was! If for no other reason than to teach you a lesson!   
_  
“No!!” he screamed, slamming his fist into the back of the couch. “It _wasn’t_ necessary! It _wasn’t_!”  
  
“Hey! Bucky!” you shouted, bringing your hands down on the top of his arms. “Did you know him?"  
  
“Pierce?”  
  
You nodded, encouraging him to take deep breaths.  
  
He sucked in air though his nose and nodded furiously, “He was in…in charge of my…program.”  
  
“Fuck…”  
  
“I was the Asset. He was my handler…” he gasped, “What…what else did you ov…overhear?”  
  
“Err…” Your eyes searched the room, taking you back into your mind-set. “Erm…”  
  
“Think!”  
  
You jumped, “He…he mentioned needing something for…the…” Your eyes grew even wider, lifting your focus back to him and gripping his arms tightly. “Oh my goodness… He said that the thing they were after, from Zola’s chest was to keep the As… _Asset in check_.”  
  
“W…what?”   
  
“The man kept telling him to be quiet, but they carried on talking as we headed down the corridor. They were talking about the P…Program not being as ef…effective after all these years…”  
  
“And you _helped_ them?!” he yelled, pushing your arms away and lurching forward, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your cheek.  
  
“I didn’t know _what_ I was doing, Bucky!! Me and my dad were in danger! I just wanted them gone!”  
  
“I was pulling away from them…starting to see more clearly…” he growled, leaning further forward until you were flat on your back and he was hovering over you. “You gave them what they needed to keep me under their control for _five more years!”_  
  
“I was threatened,” you said through gritted teeth, as you managed to lift one foot up and press it against his chest.   
  
“I was a _prisoner!”  
_  
“I had no idea what I was doing, or who I was helping, I just wanted…” You put your hands on his shoulders and pushed him back, using all the strength you could muster in your arms and legs. He moved back and watched as you sat up, breathing heavily. “I just wanted to live, Bucky!”  
  
Sadness returned to his features as covered his face with his hands, and rolled back onto his knees. “I…I’m sorry…I…”  
  
“You _demanded_ that I tell you what happened…what led me to be the person…the _wreck_ , I am today, and then you do _this?!”_  
  
“I know…I’m sorry.”  
  
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”  
  
“I have m…many decades of programming to get out of my head…and sometimes the rage just t…takes over…”  
  
“Well maybe Steve has the means to handle this kind of thing, but I don’t!”  
  
“I know, I’m sorry, [name]…”  
  
“Stop telling me you’re sorry!” you screamed, pushing up off the chair and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Just stop it, okay? I can’t take anymore apologies!”  
  
“All right, I’ll stop…but please...just finish your story,” he pleaded as he rose to his feet and opened his arms out to you, “Please…”  
  
“No…” you said in an angry whisper, as fresh tears fell down your cheeks. He took a step forward and you knocked his arms away, “No!”  
  
“We both need to know, [name]. We’re both suffering.”  
  
Your eyes met his and you rolled your lips. “I led them straight to the room where the items were kept. I took them to the shelf number, and pointed to the documents, folders…test samples. Everything! I didn’t even flinch; I was so naïve.”  
  
“You…you thought they’d let you go…”  
  
“Exactly. Stupid, wasn’t I?”  
  
“No.” He cautiously lifted his right hand up to you, sweeping away a stray hair from in front of your eye. His gentle touch made you flinch at first, but it was incredible how quickly your fear of him disappeared. “You tried to see the best in them.”  
  
You scoffed.  
  
“So what did they take?”  
  
“A file… documents related to a series of tests that Zola had run with a Dr. Ivchenko, relating to mind control?" You shrugged. "Apparently this doctor had been a cellmate of Zola’s after the war, some crazy guy who Peggy Carter had come across, in New York…”  
  
“Ivchenko? Peggy?” Bucky whispered. “How do you know so much about these details?”  
  
“Some of the inventory auditors down in the basement liked to talk about their work at lunch times…this one seemed to be quite a popular topic because it seemed so…” You gave a sad laugh, “…absurd.”  
  
“They _did_ change my reconditioning procedures at some point…” he pondered, his hands now shaking. “I…I guess five years ago makes sense.”  
  
“They talked about the ‘end game’ being set in motion…”  
  
“End game?”  
  
“I think they called it, Project Insight…?”  
  
“Th…that all fits…”  
  
“Was that anything to do with the helicarriers I saw on the news?”  
  
He nodded. “I think that was always going to be my last mission.”  
  
“The end game…” you mumbled. “Bucky I don’t know what to…”  
  
He held his hand up, “I’ve hijacked your story, [name]. This was meant to be about helping you with your problems….” He took your hand as gently as he could and tugged you back to the couch, pulling you down as he went to sit. “Your father…how did he come to die?”  
  
You gasped for breath, feeling your throat burn as you tried to force air into your lungs. “I…I don’t think I can…”  
  
He took your hand, giving it a squeeze. “[name]…you _need_ to tell me.”  
  
Xxx  
  
“Well…now that I’ve got what I came for, let’s get out of here, fellas,” the man laughed, sliding the worn manila folder into a long pocket inside his jacket.  
  
“What about them?” one of the goons asked, motioning towards you and Dad with his gun.   
  
“Let him go, and do what you want with her.”  
  
You and Dad gasped, and stared at each other, wide eyed. Your entire body trembled, as the men encircled you.  
  
“Let _me_ go? No…please, don’t do this!”  
  
“Shut up, you old idiot! You’re no threat to us, but she knows things, so she’s coming with us.”  
  
“This should be fun,” another laughed menacingly, as he walked up behind you and grabbed you by your arms, jerking your head back to look at him. “It’s been a long time since I had any female company…”  
  
“Get away from her!” Dad shouted, lunging forward and trying to tear the goon’s grip off you.   
  
The goon kicked him, and lashed out, his fist landing against Dad’s jaw.   
  
“Dad!”  
  
“Please! I beg you, leave her alone!”  
  
“And deny my men this pretty young thing?” the man sneered, running the back of his hand down your cheek and onto your neck.  
  
You whimpered and tried to pull away, but you were held in a cast-iron grip.  
  
“Shhh, everything will be all right…” the man smirked, his fingertips lingering at the top of your shirt.  
  
“A life for a life?” dad piped up, just as the man turned his attention to your buttons.  
  
He stopped, and turned to face Dad. “Excuse me?”  
  
“My life, for hers? James Montgomery Falsworth’s son. The ultimate prize for any HYDRA agent worth his salt.”  
  
“Hmm…that’s an interesting proposition. But my men were looking forward to this one…” he said, running his hand into your hair and pulling you close. You cried out in pain.  
  
Dad rolled his lips, seeing his daughter being victimised. “My life…for hers,” he whispered.  
  
All the evil eyes in the room looked across at each other, weighing up the options. There were loud grumblings of disapproval, but after a minute or two, the grip around your arms loosened slightly.  
  
“Very well. On your knees.”  
  
“Wait…can we s…say…”  
  
“On your knees!”  
  
Dad’s legs buckled as a sharp kick brought him crashing to the ground.   
  
“No!” you cried.  
  
“Shut her up, will you!”  
  
“D…Dad…?”  
  
“It’s all right, [name]…please don’t be afraid.”  
  
A pistol made its way to the man, standing in the middle of a circle of darkest black.  
  
“What are you doing?! Let him go!”  
  
Laughter. The sound of the safety catch being released.  
  
“No, sweetheart, look away. Please…look a…”  
  
Gunshot.  
  
“No!!!” you screamed, your eyes slamming shut after the fact. “No!!” You kicked out wildly, trying desperately to be free. Your arms were released just as the sound of police sirens came within earshot.   
  
As the men scrambled around you, all sounds faded to blackness as you collapsed by your father’s body on the floor. “Dad…” you cried as you reached out, lifting his head into your lap and covering him, placing a kiss on his cheek as blood pooled all around you. “Why did you do that?” Your eyes searched around for answers, as boots covered the ground in every direction. “You didn’t need to die…” You pulled him closer, feeling his warmth and smelling his aftershave. “I love you, Dad…I love you so much.”  
  
“Harris! Harris!” a voice called out amongst the white noise that assaulted your ears. You lifted your head towards the voice and squinted, just as dozens of police officers ran into the room, crouching down around you and pulling you away from your father.  
  
“No…” you mumbled, your head pounding with adrenaline. “Let me stay with him…”  
  
“This is a crime scene, ma’am…please go with the officer.”  
  
“Let me stay with him! That’s my Dad!”  
  
“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss…?”  
  
“[last name],” you mumbled.  
  
“Harris!”  
  
You squinted a little harder, just catching sight of your attackers, marching up the corridor with different jackets on. The man; your father’s murderer, turned around on the third call, greeting a police man with a pat on the back and a smile. A female police officer tried to pull you in the other direction and you shuffled out of her grasp, taking a step forward.   
  
Just at that moment, the light from a torch swept across the arm of ‘Harris’s’ jacket. The familiar logo of an eagle, causing you to clamp your hand over your mouth. “Sh…Shield…?”   
  
“Pardon, ma’am?”  
  
“Shield!!”  
  
Harris and his men looked up to see you, smirks appearing on all of their faces as your words were drowned out by the din of police officers getting to work around you.  
  
Harris patted the document hidden inside his jacket, then brought his index finger up to his lips and stared at you. You swallowed hard, the room becoming blurred as he was waved through, leading his men out of the corridor and out of sight.  
  
“No…” you sobbed, as your knees gave way beneath you. “No…”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Miss [last name]…” the officer said, as she helped you. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Xxx  
  
“[name]…” Bucky whispered, cradling you. “I can’t imagine…”  
  
You wept into his shoulder, crying until your body was physically worn out. Your eyes stung, your hands were shaking uncontrollably. You felt like you wanted to die. You didn’t want to feel this pain, this red hot fiery pain coursing through your veins every day. You wanted it all to stop. “And…and M…Mum and Joanna b…blame m…me,” you said in a hoarse whisper.   
  
“Oh, no.” He pulled back to look into your red, puffy eyes, “And instead of talking about it, you…you punished yourself?”  
  
You gave a slow nod. “I figured if I…I let myself be used, if I just switched off…this pain would go away…”  
  
“Oh, [name],” he said, pulling you back into his arms and kissing your hair. “It’s so dangerous.”  
  
“I don’t c…care. I need to feel something outside of m...my grief.”  
  
“Please, don’t think that this is the only way to cope.”  
  
“So what do I do, instead?”  
  
“Well…we can focus your mind on something else.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like finding out who this Harris guy is…and making him pay.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In search of a common enemy

“Make him…pay?”

Bucky nodded as he pushed up off the couch and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and pouring himself some water. “The question you need to ask yourself is what do you want; revenge, or justice?”

You frowned, looking away from him, “I…I don’t know.”

He took a gulp of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Do you want Harris to die, or do you want him to go to jail?”

“Honestly…?”

He nodded. “Honestly.”

“I want to rip his head off. He k…killed my dad. He ruined my life.”

Bucky downed the rest of the water and carefully placed it down on the counter-top, then rested against the island, splaying his arms out as he leaned forward, in your direction. “Well, in that case, we need to get started.”

“What do we do first?” you asked, lifting your hands and slapping them against your legs. “Where do we start?”

“You said something about him and his men wearing Shield jackets?”

“Yes. They must’ve been carrying them in holdalls or something.”

“You’re sure they were Shield?”

“Positive. I’d seen it many times before, because of Dad’s books about Peggy Carter, Howard Stark etc. But since the Battle of New York…”

“The…what?”

“Oh, you would’ve been under HYDRA’s influence when that happened…” you said, biting your lip. “It was a big battle between the Aven…”

Bucky looked at you, confused.

You sighed. “Steve Rogers is a member of a group of heroes called the Avengers. They fought an…alien invasion in New York back in 2012.” You dropped your head into your hands, “Jesus…it sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud…”

“New York? Aliens? Very ridiculous.”

“Right? Anyway, since then, the Shield logo hasn’t been out of the media for more than 5 minutes of any given day. The world is obsessed with these guys.”

“So you’ve never been far away from that symbol.”

“Exactly. I know it inside out. They were Shield, trust me.”

“And now that the organisation is destroyed…dispersed.” He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, then tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, feeling uncomfortable, like he was trapped. “Geez, it's hot in here. Do you mind if I…?”

“Erm…n...no, go a...ahead.” 

He pulled the t-shirt up and over his head, leaving him standing there in your kitchen in just his under-shirt. You felt your cheeks flush. His arms were huge, even with the left one obscured by freshly wound bandages.

You tilted your head. 

“Something wrong?”

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head. “No.” You stood up and walked over to him, his eyes following you. You reached out your fingertips, slowly approaching his bandaged arm, all the while keeping an eye out for a sudden change in his demeanour. His chest was heaving as you placed your hands on him, gently wrapping your fingertips around his upper arm. “Are the bandages still necessary, Bucky?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Why?” you asked, lifting your gaze up to meet his.

“I’m not ready for you to…see.”

“Will you be, someday?”

He gave a slow nod. “One thing at a time, [name].”

You smiled and let go of him, then turned and rested your back against the island. “What a pair of messed up people we are.”

He laughed as he dropped his head, glancing back at you through the hair that fell around his face. “We met for a reason, [name], I’m more convinced of that with every passing second.”

“Well, I didn’t plan it,” you smirked, placing your hand on your chest, “Did you?”

“No, but whoever or whatever brought us together…I’m thankful.”

“Me too.” Your eyes wandered down to the under-shirt, which fit him perfectly, showing off his well-defined muscles. You let out an awkward giggle and looked away, feeling your face burn.

“Shall we, erm…get back to the task at hand?” he said, holding back a laugh.

“Please.”

He waited for you to compose yourself, pouring another glass of water and getting you one too, before he carried on talking. “So how do we find a corrupt Shield agent, without hacking into some government program?”

“I don’t know, maybe we c…” Your eyes shot open as you turned around to face the living room and caught sight of the TV, still muted, showing the news. “Or maybe we don’t need to…”

“Huh?”

You reached for the remote and turned the sound back on, just as the studio cut to Olivia Watson, the BBC's Washington Correspondent.

Congressman Wenham and Committee General Scudder faced off against former Shield Agent Natasha Romanoff just a few moments ago, behind me on Capitol Hill. Inside the Congressional hearing, Ms Romanoff was quizzed on her prior knowledge of HYDRA’s infiltrating of Shield, an idea that was quickly dismissed as nonsense by the calm and collected former Russian KGB operative. When Scudder turned his attention to Steve Rogers, aka Captain America, Ms Romanoff claimed he had nothing left to say.

“…I think the wreck in the middle of the Potomac made his point fairly eloquently.”

“Well, he could explain how this country’s expected to maintain its national security now that he and you have laid waste our intelligence apparatus.”

You turned the TV off and rushed over to the coffee table. “That’s all we need to do.”

“I’m sorry, I still don’t get it, [name].”

Crouching down and retrieving your laptop from a shelf underneath the table, you stood back up and rested it against your hip. “Natasha has already done the hard work for us, Bucky. She released all of Shields files onto the internet!”

His mouth dropped, “Right! Let’s see what we can find, then!” he said, beckoning you back over to him.

With you in control of the keys, the two of you gathered all the files you could find online. Even with the huge file dump having being done in a rush by Romanoff, all folders were in a very neat, methodical order. The names of Shield agents from every corner of the globe were at your fingertips, and all you needed to do to get the ball rolling was select which country you were interested in.

“Okay, so I’m guessing we narrow the search to Britain, yeah?”

“Yep.” You clicked through to an interactive map made up of a blue wire-frame globe, with countries in solid colour. You highlighted the British Isles, watching intently as the screen zoomed in on the country and small white dots appeared where each Shield facility was located. There were twelve altogether. You noticed a white dot in Yorkshire, you blood boiling at how close they’d been to your Dad, all this time.

“That’s a lot of bases of operation…”

“Only five were HYDRA affiliated.”

“How do you know that?”

“News broadcast, in the pub last night…” you gulped, “I just remembered.”

“Okay…can you remember what accent Harris and his men had?”

“Oh yes,” you said, scrolling furiously with the trackpad. “Scottish. Edinburgh, I reckon.”

“Sc…Scottish?”

Your heart sank, the conversation on the aeroplane rushing back to you.

“I…erm, well…I have some business to take care of, up in Scotland.”

“Oh? Dare I ask what kind of business?”

“Oh, Bucky…”

“No…” he whispered, holding a hand up to you, “Don’t say anything…” He closed his eyes, hearing the voices of his captors.

“Did you get it?”

“Yes, Secretary Pierce. It’s been assessed, programmed into the machine and is ready for use.”

“Good.”

“Is he…dangerous?”

“What? No, not with these restraints, plus whatever is left of the latest memory wipe. He's as helpless as a child…you and your men are perfectly safe, Harris.”

“Argh!” Bucky screamed, picking up his glass and throwing it behind him, in one swift action. It shattered as it hit the tiles above the sink, sending shards of glass flying in all directions.

You turned away, cowering behind your arms as they zoomed past, brushing against your skin. When you looked at him, he was breathing heavily through his nose, clenching and unclenching his fists, staring in the direction of the impact.

“Bucky! What are you doing?!”

“He was there!”

“Who? Harris?”

He gave a brief nod.

“Where was he?”

“There.” He tapped his left index finger against the screen, right next to a white dot in the very centre of the Scottish Highlands.

“Is that the place you were flying over to...?”

He nodded.

“How do you know it’s that one?”

“I just do. Click it.”

You did as you were told, clicking on the white dot and watching as a new page opened. There in front of you was a list. A roll call. The names of 45 Shield agents. Next to about 35 of them were small red asterisks’. You knew without having to be told, that these were HYDRA double agents, which meant 10 innocent people, loyal to Shield, had probably been killed by their colleagues. You felt sick.

“Scroll down,” Bucky said, staring at the screen.

You obliged, your anxiousness growing as you scrolled a few times.

“There he is. Agent William Harris, special commendation.”

Your hand clamped over your mouth as Bucky clicked his name and his ID photo popped up. His hair was a light auburn colour and neat, his face clean shaven. When he’d stood in front of you, running his hand down your cheek, his face had been partially hidden behind a well-maintained beard. Seeing him like this, with his tie perfect and his collar starched, he didn’t look like a killer, but then his eyes caught you. His stare was cold, the pale blue cutting through you like a knife. There had been no compassion in the way he looked at you, at your Dad…anyone. You knew that if he hadn’t been interrupted, he would’ve either killed you or…you didn’t want to think about it.

Bucky looked at you, watching your face. Your eyes rolled back into your head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’ve got you…”

xxx

Soft light filtered into your eyes as you woke on your bed, your head throbbing. You groaned and shifted to your elbows.

“Careful,” Bucky said softly, rising from a chair between the two large windows and moving to your side.

“W…what happened?”

“You blacked out. Took one look at Harris’s face and…” he clicked his fingers, “You were out like a light.”

“How long for?”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on your back. “Ten minutes.”

You tried to sit up a bit more, and winced, “It feels like longer…”

“You were still hungover, don’t forget.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

He laughed under his breath, before his faced turned into a scowl. “[name]…I’m going to go on, by myself.”

“What?” you said, determined to sit up properly and look him in the eye. “Why?”

“Because I keep lashing out, and I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I’ll be all right…”

“No,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I’ve already come close, just this morning…and if I can’t snap out of it, I could kill you. You said it yourself.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, don’t you dare leave me here. I want to see that man suffer for what he did to me and my family…” You shirked away from his touch and grabbed his hands as he moved away, holding them tight. “I want to see him suffer for what he did to you, too.”

“[Name]…”

“Stop saying my name like that.," you groaned, "I’m in this, with you.”

He rolled his lips, his eyes darting all over your face. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well…all right then. Do you have a car?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the road, with a few bumps along the way...

“Yes, I have a car. Are we leaving now?”

“Not this exact second,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “There’s a few things to organise before we go.”

“Okay, let me just…” You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and pressed your fingers against your temples. “I’m never touching alcohol again. You’re my witness.”

“Sounds fair to me,” he smiled. He held his arms out to you, pulling you slowly to your feet and supporting you, making sure you didn’t fall back. “You all right to start packing a bag?”

“Yeah, sure. What are you going to do?”

“I need weapons…”

You pulled a face.

“What’s that for?”

“You’re talking guns, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You know you’re in England, don’t you? You can’t buy firearms here, they’re illegal.”

“They are?” He looked out of the window and scratched his head, “That makes things a bit more difficult…”

You chewed your lip, as you stood there, with his hand on your waist. “Erm…”

“The last time I was in England you were in war-mode, munitions everywhere.”

You gave an awkward laugh, “Well, in case no one ever told you, we won, so…”

“Fair enough. Surely criminals have them, though, right?”

You shrugged, “I don’t hang around in those kinds of circles, Mr Barnes.”

“Good to know,” he whispered, planting a kiss on your cheek. He released his hold on you and stepped back, gazing at you in your robe and pyjamas. “We’re going to get him, [name], I promise.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “You mean it?”

“I do. He will be held to account for what he did to both of us.”

You stepped up to him and kissed his cheek, “Good to know.”

He gave a soft laugh and headed for the door, “I need to think about getting my hands on those weapons…”

“Okay,” you smiled as you turned away from him and walked towards your small bathroom. “And I’ll jump in the shower before I do anything else.”

With a quick nod, he moved to close the door. Just then, a spark of an idea came into his head and he opened it again, just catching sight of your bare back as you lifted your pyjama top over your head and dropped it on the bed. He chewed the corner of his lip as his eyes lingered for a moment, before he left you to your privacy. “I’ll, erm…tell her about it later.”

Xxx

“I know how we can get weapons,” Bucky said excitedly as you walked out of your bedroom, your damp [h/c] hair pulled over one shoulder.

“Where?” you asked, heading over to the coat hooks by the door and retrieving your favourite grey hoodie.

“Shield.”

“Excuse me…?”

“They had weapons caches all over the world, in case an agent found themselves in trouble far from a base.”

You straightened your back and smiled. “And, I suppose you know where there is one…”

“Of course,” he smirked, “That’s the kind of information HYDRA would never let me forget.”

“All right then.” You folded the hoodie and walked back into your bedroom to stuff it into your overnight bag. A minute later, you carried the bulging bag out of the room and dropped it on the hardwood floor with a thud. “Shall we go then?”

Xxx

You waited until nightfall, before climbing into your black Mercedes SLK sports car, and zooming out of the underground parking garage, following the directions of the navigation system. Bucky sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out of the window and drumming his fingers on the armrest. Occasionally, his gaze would fall on you, and you tried your best to keep your focus on the road, all the while feeling his eyes bore into you. Without even looking, you could sense him inspecting your hands as your fingers lightly gripped the steering wheel, then following your bare arms up to your shoulders, his focus lingering on your neck as you swallowed. He licked his lips and watched as you blushed.

“Don’t do that…please,” you whispered.

“Do what?”

“Look at me like that.”

“I think you’re imagining things, [name].”

“Oh, I am, am I?”

“Yup.”

“Fine.” You squeezed the wheel, glanced across at him dressed in tactical black, and pressed down hard on the accelerator pedal.

It was gone midnight by the time you reached the location in North London. By then, the rain was pelting the windscreen, making the headlights of other cars dazzling against the droplets on your windscreen.

“Pull up in here,” Bucky said.

You turned left into a narrow side street and cut the lights, slowing to a stop. “Where is it?”

He thumbed over his shoulder, “Just back there, beyond the red phone box. It’s an old artist’s studio that’s been kitted out. You stay here, I’ll only be a minute or two.”

You nodded and watched as he climbed out of the car, an empty rucksack on his back. Looking in the rear-view mirror, he disappeared from view within seconds, lost to the darkness. You shivered at how easily he became a ghost.

That minute or two turned into ten, glancing in all of your mirrors every couple of seconds and beating your palms on the steering wheel, anxiously. “Where is he?” you muttered to yourself. The rain seemed to die down for a few minutes, at which point you figured now would be a good time to get out and go look for him. You reached into the glove compartment, taking out a heavy torch, for light and weaponry, all in one, then grabbed your coat. As you rounded the corner and stepped out of the dark, into the glow of a dim street light, you heard a loud popping sound. “What the...”

Glass smashed in the distance. You squinted through the drizzling rain to see a figure leaping from a 2nd floor window. “Bucky!” you shouted, rushing forward as he scrambled to his feet. Another popping sound. He fell back to his knees. “Oh my God…”

“Get to the car!” he yelled, pushing up to standing again and setting off running towards you. The rucksack looked heavy, bouncing from side to side on his back as he pulled the straps tighter. “Get to the car!”

You nodded vigorously and turned back in the direction you came from, rounding the corner and practically leaping into the driver’s side. You pressed the ignition button and the engine roared to life.

As another popping sound came from the 2nd floor window, Bucky glanced over his shoulder whilst sprinting away. A tiny flash of what he figured was a camera phone, then silence.

He slid over to the passenger door and yanked it open, falling in and slamming it shut behind him. “Let’s go, let’s go!!”

You pressed the pedal right to the floor, the back wheels spinning furiously before setting off rapidly down the side street and out the other end.

“What the fuck was that?!” you asked as you found a quiet, straight road.

He glanced behind, making sure you weren’t being followed, before he answered. “An agent, loyal to Shield, I think.”

“Oh geez, so the good guys are our enemies, too?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Just keep g…” He sucked in air as a sharp pain coursed through him. He pressed his hand against his abdomen, wincing as he pulled it away to see it covered in blood.

“Bucky, what the hell?? You’re bleeding!”

“No... shit,” he said with a painful laugh.

“How can you laugh in this moment?”

“Because we sound like the clichéd double act in a radio play…only with slightly more colourful language.”

“Oh…” you smirked, before remembering his injury, “We need to get you to a hospital, though, Bucky you’re injured.”

He waved his free hand in front of you, “No…I can ta…take care of this myself. Just…get us out of London, somewhere remote, and I’ll sort myself out.”

“All right, if you’re sure.” He nodded and you frowned, feeling like you wanted to spin the car around and drive to the nearest A&E. Despite this, you pressed on, finding yourself on the motorway very quickly.

You drove for about an hour, putting some good distance between Bucky and the shooter, all the while checking your mirrors for following cars. Nothing. You breathed a sigh of relief and looked across at him. He seemed almost eerily calm for someone who got shot in the abdomen just over an hour ago. “You okay?” you whispered.

He lifted his hand that was pressing on the wound. The blood was dry. “Yeah…I’ll be all right, [name]. I’ve had worse.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” you said, half laughing, half scowling. “Shall I stop at the next place? You can get that sorted and then we can get some sleep?”

“Sounds perfect,” he smiled, wearily.

Xxx

The small hotel just outside Stratford-Upon-Avon was quaint and sufficiently out of the way to feel safe tonight. After checking in and paying, the two of you headed up the stairs and down the corridor, to the last room on the right. You punched the key card into the lock and celebrated under your breath as red turned to green. You pushed the door open and flicked the pretty useless lights on, then turned and beckoned Bucky inside. He shuffled past and headed straight for the bathroom, dropping his rucksack and beginning to remove his coat. He whimpered miserably, and you hurried in, gently tugging his arms out and rinsing the blood off it in the sink.

As he gingerly rolled up his black t-shirt to look at the damage, you caught sight of another injury. “You…you’re hurt here, too…” you said, spinning around and holding his left arm steady. A bullet had grazed his bandages, singeing them.

He tugged at your grip. “It’s fine…leave it…”

“Bucky…?” You took a closer look, the shine of something metal reflecting the harsh light. “What…”

He tugged again. This time you let go, your eyes pleading. “Let me fix this,” he muttered, pointing at the dried blood around the bullet wound in his abdomen.

You gave a solemn nod and routed around in your bag, finding a first aid kit. “Will this be enough to work?”

“Are there tweezers?”

You unzipped the bag and looked around. “Yes.”

“That’ll be fine, then. Thank you.”

You didn’t say another word, but pushed yourself up to sit on the marble counter-top, watching from behind your hands as he used the tweezers to pull the small bullet out of the wound. He didn’t even flinch. When that was done, you dropped back down and readied some anti-septic pads, waiting for a nod of approval before cautiously wiping away the blood, checking his face every minute or two to gauge his reaction. Nothing.

As you stepped back and cleaned up, you could see his wound shrink before your eyes, almost disappearing by the time you tore your eyes away from it in the mirror. “What...? How…?”

He turned you and gave a smile. “I told you, super soldier serum.”

“But it couldn’t fix this?” you murmured, running your thumb over his scorched bandage on his arm.

He pulled a face. “That was before…”

“I…I didn’t hurt you, just then…did I?”

“No.”

“So why did you pull that face?”

“I…I think it’s because I’m scared, when you touch it.”

You rolled your lips, running your fingertips gently down the contours of the arm. “Please, Bucky…please let me see it…”

He waited for your hand to slip away from him before taking it in his own, and leading you out of the bathroom, over to one of the queen-size beds. He sat on the edge whilst you stood, finding the cut edge of the bandage and slowly beginning to unwind it. As the loose end approached his t-shirt, you paused in your mission, gently lifting the t-shirt up and over his head. Your fingers hovered over scar tissue that ran around his arm and onto his back, before pressing your splayed fingers against his chest. His heart was pounding. “Are you still scared?” you whispered, shuffling closer to him and resting your forehead against his.

“Terrified,” he responded, his breath catching. As you took hold of the bandage again, he moved, so your noses were next to each other, feeling each other’s breath on your skin.

Your other hand moved away from his chest, sliding up his neck and behind his ear. “Don’t be.”

Slowly, you continued unwinding the bandage whilst he ran his right hand up your back. More and more shiny metal appeared, and you could sense him trying to keep his breathing calm and steady. A hint of a red shape on his shoulder caused you to focus on it, peeling away another layer of bandage in a hurry. “Oh, Bucky…” you sighed, getting your first glimpse of his metal arm. Your fingers traced the connecting lines, as you stared at the bright red star.

He pulled you closer with his hand on the small of your back, giving you the opportunity to inspect the details even more thoroughly. “Please don’t judge me.”

You found his gaze, seeing the tears cresting his eyes, and smudged them away with your thumbs. “I told you I would never…”

He shifted, releasing you. “They gave me this, not out of the goodness of their hearts…”

“I know…”

“They gave me it so I could be a killing machine, in the literal sense…”

“Shhh.” You pressed you index finger against his lips and tilted your head, “Bucky, I know what they did....” You reached down and took his metal hand, lifting it to your lips and placing a soft kiss on each finger. “And I am not scared of it.”

He smiled and pressed both hands against your back, his smile widening as the cold sensation made you jump slightly, then giggle. “Thank you, [name]. That’s all I want to say…” Before you could respond, he was pulling you right to him, your lips meeting his. Your eyes dropped closed as you lost yourselves in the kiss, your fingers running through his hair, his sliding under your t-shirt and up your back. Your mouths opened, as your hearts began racing each other. He drew you into his lap, causing you to moan, and moved your legs so they wrapped around him.

You parted, both of you trying to catch your breath as your eyes searched each other’s faces, your lips tingling. “Are we…erm…doing this?”

He nodded vigorously and pressed his lips against your neck, “So long as you want to…”

Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head, as he continued placing kisses on your skin. “More than ever before…” He tugged on the sleeve of your t-shirt, revealing your collarbone and dropping kisses all along it. “But...wait, wait, wait,” you said, gently pushing him back. “After everything that happened…?”

He moved his hands to your waist and dropped his head. “I’m giving you mixed signals, aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s me…I feel like I ruined whatever we were starting, by throwing myself at you.”

“You didn’t, but I understand. Do you want to stop, [name]?”

You chewed your lip and took your first steady breath in the last ten minutes. “I...don't know…maybe, slow down?”

He smiled sleepily at you and kissed your lips. “All right, slow is fine.”

“Thank you.”

You climbed out of his lap and ran your fingers over his scars again, tracing them whilst whispering sweet words in his ear. He twirled your hair through his fingers, as the dim lights bounced off the strands, making your hair almost sparkle. Despite his neediness for you, moments ago, this closeness was more than enough for him. It had been so long since anyone had been this near to him, physically or emotionally, and simply having you there to touch, was calming…soothing. As your fingers lightly stroked his arm, and his eyelids grew heavy, he knew that when the moment did arrive, it would be perfect.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the (almost) night before.

You woke the next morning on Bucky’s bed, both of you laid on top of the quilt, facing each other. His metal hand rested on your hip and as you looked at it, you felt comforted…safe. As he lay softly sleeping, free from nightmares for a change, you gazed at him, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Last night, after deciding to move slowly, you’d stood in front of him, caressing his metal arm, brushing your fingertips against his cheek and getting lost in his piercing blue eyes. Who knows how long you’d stayed like that. The only other things you remembered were his kisses, delicate, placed meaningfully, all over your face, your neck. As you began to weave, the jetlag and the past few days’ events finally catching up with you, he’d lifted you and placed you down on one side of the bed. Now the morning sunlight was peeking around the edges of the curtains, and you didn’t want to move.

He shifted, his eyes opening slightly before falling closed again. You smiled and pushed up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and standing up. You glanced down at yesterday’s clothes, then wandered over to your bag, pulling out a clean long-sleeve white top and jeans. After flicking the bathroom light on, you rolled your top up over your head and wandered in with the clean clothes, pushing the door closed with your foot.

Xxx

“So how long’s the journey?” Bucky asked, fastening his seatbelt.

“Just over 9 hours from here to the little village closest to the facility.” You pressed the ignition button and moved off, out of the car park and onto the main road. “I figured, since it’s pretty early, and we’re in a rush, we could do the journey in one day.”

He looked across at you as you stared at the road ahead, dotted with traffic. “There isn’t much of a rush, really…”

“Well, we need to get there before Harris gets away, right?”

“Yes, but...he’s not going anywhere, [name], trust me.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He won’t abandon his post,” he mumbled, familiar voices creeping into his mind.

_“Was the procedure a success, Secretary Pierce?”_

_“Yes, it was.”_

_“So is he conscious?”_

_“He is, and he doesn’t have any idea what going on around him. Thanks to Zola and Ivchenko’s collaboration, we have an Asset with a clear mind, once again.”_

_Laughter._

Bucky growled, his fingers gripping the armrest with all his strength.

_“So his mind is fully programmable… What should we have him do next? I’m not a fan of this idiot of a Prime Minister we have…”_

_“Now, now, Harris. Project Insight is right on schedule, so no need for my most loyal foot soldier to jump the gun. Good things come to those who wait.”_

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He could feel himself turning red, his muscles aching to lash out at something.

“Bucky…” you said, switching your eyes between him and the road, “Bucky, please don’t. Just stay calm, all right?”

“I…I’m try…trying…”

You jerked the steering wheel to the left, manoeuvring the car into a pull-in, then turned your whole body to face him. “Bucky, look at me.”

He tried to catch his breath, visibly struggling with his own anger.

“Look. At. Me,” you said sternly, taking his face and forcing him to meet your eyes. He gripped onto your wrists and took short, sharp breaths, his red face terrifying. “You’re okay. It’s just us, just you…and _me_.”

“I…ke…keep seeing him…”

“Harris.”

He nodded as best he could, spluttering. “And Pierce…talking ab…about me. These ni…nightmares…I just…”

“Breathe, please. Deep breaths.”

“I want him out of m…my head!”

“Hey,” you said, before biting your lip and pulling him into a hug, “I’m here for you, Bucky. Tell me whatever you want.” You pulled away slightly, to look into his eyes again, now filled with tears, “No judgements.”

“I have nightmares every ni…night. Always the same mission…”

xxx

“The targets: Jackson Fisher and Andrew Holmes,” Pierce said, slamming 2 photographs down in front of STRIKE Team Delta, as engineers inspected Bucky’s metal arm.

“What did they do?”

“It’s not a question of what they _did_ do, it’s what they didn’t. _Wouldn’t_. These two are responsible for setting defence budgets, and they’re stalling on Project Insight. They want to see concrete evidence of its usefulness.”

“Why don’t you just ask them nicely?” one of the soldiers smirked.

“Why do I need to grovel, when I have the ultimate weapon, sat ten feet away?”

Xxx

“I don’t understand. This mission...went _wrong?”_

He gave a slow nod. “The…erm, effects of the program had been diminishing, for a while.”

“Could you not do what you were told to?”

“I did my job. Fisher and Holmes were dead…” He rolled his lips, his eyes pleading with you as you shuffled uncomfortably. “I just didn’t get out of the area q…quick enough…”

You shook your head, a frown appearing on your face. “I don’t follow…”

“There was a witness…a kid. A small boy.”

You felt light-headed. “Oh my goodness. D…did _you_ …?”

“What? _No_. I wasn’t even aware, until after Pierce had him and his entire family killed…”

"What??" You couldn’t take any more. You clamped your hand over your mouth and hunted for the door handle, pulling it and shoving the door open, just reaching the grass before you plummeted to your knees and threw up. So many tears were falling, you were certain you were about to drown. You threw up again, your entire body heaving.

He climbed out of the car and ran over, dropping to his knees beside you. “[name]!”

You couldn’t speak, able only to wave your hand in front of him.

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have told you.”

“N…no…”

“I just keep replaying that mission in my head and he’s…he’s there…but I didn’t see…”

“Do…don’t s…say it…”

He covered his face with his hands, his voice cracking, “It’s my fault…Everything is _my_ fault…”

“B…Buck…”

“If my programming hadn’t started to fail, and I’d gotten out of sight before the kid saw me…”

“I t…told you…” you sniffed, shaking your head, “Don’t s…say it…”

“That family would still be alive…” he continued, “Harris wouldn’t have gone to the museum and…”

“Shut up! _Please!”_ You slammed your hands over your ears, and squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like you’d been hit by a truck. So many questions, so many painful truths, but you just couldn’t handle them.

Bucky dropped his shoulders and together you kneeled by the side of the busy road, as cars zoomed past, their occupants blissfully unaware of the tragedy you two had witnessed in your lives. Neither of you spoke a word, even after you took your hands away from your ears and stared through your watery vision, focusing on a few blades of grass as they danced in the breeze. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted a some of his hair blowing across his face, but he didn’t move. You released a breath you’d been holding for a good while and reached out, brushing it away with the lightest touch and tucking it behind his ear. Your eyes met and you both blinked, dripping solitary tears down your cheeks.

A tiny hint of a smile, comforting but weary, appeared on his face as he wiped your tear away and pulled you into his arms. “I’m sor…”

“Bucky,” you whispered, clinging onto him, “You have no n…need to be.”

“If you truly believe that...”

“I do…”

He kissed your hair and your bodies relaxed against each other, the swooshing noise of the cars fading to nothing.

Xxx

You’d been back on the road for nearly 4 hours. Conversation had been hard to come by, as you’d tried to process what he’d told you earlier. You knew he felt wracked with guilt, and you wanted to comfort him, but it felt…strange? Indirectly as it was, Bucky had set the wheels in motion for your father to die. You certainly didn’t blame him, how could you? But you felt equally guilty for walking Harris down to the basement and handing him that folder. _What a fucking mess_.

He fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket and lifted his head, sneaking a glance at you at the exact moment you did the same to him. You both laughed softly under your breath and looked away.

“You hungry?” you asked, your voice only just piercing the quiet.

“Yeah…you?”

“I could eat.”

That was it. The entirety of that conversation. You checked the signs on the side of the road. Food was 30 miles away. Your stomach grumbled as you put your foot down on the accelerator for a moment to climb a hill. _This is awkward_.

10 miles away from a hot meal, you noticed a black car approaching at speed. You frowned, staring at the driver in your rear-view mirror. He pressed forward, his car nearly touching yours. "All right, all right," you grumbled. You pulled over into the slow lane to let them past, watching intensely as they overtook you, albeit slowly. 4 men sat motionless, none of them appearing to even blink. You were about to nudge Bucky when you heard the soft sound of him sleeping and decided to let him snooze until you arrived at the service area.

Xxx

“Bucky…” you whispered, giving his arm a gentle shake. “We’re here…”

He groaned, opening his eyes slowly and twisting to look at you, “Here?”

“You wanted to eat…”

“Oh…right. Okay.”

A minute later, you both climbed out of the car and walked into the complex. “This place is nice,” you said, beckoning him away from the crowded fast food restaurants and towards a delicatessen. After buying your food and hot drinks, you headed over to a table, watching as Bucky brought your purchases across and sat with his back against the wall. You sat facing him, and glanced out of the window.

“Can we…” He sighed and took a bite of his sandwich.

“What?”

“I feel like there’s a barrier between us now…and I made it.”

“You didn’t,” you said, shaking your head. He shuffled uncomfortably and pressed his hand against where his bullet wound had been. “Pierce…Harris…they did it, Bucky.”

“But your reaction…”

You opened your mouth to sip your tea, but promptly placed it back down on the table and leaned forward, speaking in a whisper, “My reaction was to that poor little innocent boy and his fam…” You choked back tears and leaned backwards in your chair, your face flitting between him and the window. “Can we talk about this when we’re somewhere private?”

“Could we not talk about it at all?” he replied, only half joking.

You groaned and leaned forward again, taking his gloved hands in yours. “Bucky. I’m tired of telling you it’s not your fault…”

“I’m tired of you having to do that, too…”

“But make no mistake, I will continue to say it. I will…shout it from the rooftops, I will…tattoo it across my damn forehead, if it means you’ll get the message.”

He smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day, and ran his thumb down the back of your hand. “I’m so glad you sat next to me on that plane…”

“And that I made a complete fool of myself in front of you?”

“Yeah…it was kind of rude to point so brazenly at my bandaged hand…” he smirked.

Your cheeks turned a light shade of pink, “Hmm, sorry about that…”

“No judgements.”

You smiled at each other and resumed your lunch, carrying on your conversation for what must’ve been an hour.

Eventually, your attention turned to the window. The dark was beginning to draw in, and you were still 5 hours away. “Well, I guess we should get going, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, stretching his arms above his head.

“We should still get there before midnight, so right on schedule.”

He nodded and you both rose to your feet. After a quick bathroom break, you walked back out to the car.

As you pressed the key and took hold of the door handle, you heard the sound of a car door shutting and footsteps. You lifted your head to see two men sprinting towards Bucky, their faces filled with anger. “What the...?!”

He spun around, instinctively reaching out to grab one of the men by his neck, using both hands to pull his head down to meet his knee. The sound of the man's skull fracturing echoing around the now strangely deserted area of the car park. Another man pulled a metal stick from behind his back, pressing a button and striking Bucky on his side, sending a wave of electric shocks through his body. He screamed and lashed out, landing a punch to the man’s gut with the full force of his metal fist.

As the man stumbled backwards, he lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours for a second. _The driver?_ You didn’t have time to process the information before arms reached around you, pulling you backwards. You tried to scream but a disembodied hand covered your mouth with ferocious grip. You kicked out, your feet landing against your car and making your captor stumble backwards a few feet, before finding his balance and slapping your face. You whimpered, breathing heavily through your nose. Bucky was too occupied with the other men, punching and kicking at them, his rage building by the second.

“Thought you could run away, did you?” one of the men seethed, between punches.

“Who said anything about running?” Bucky responded, a slight smirk on his face. As he landed a blow to his attacker's jaw, knocking him out, he turned around and saw you. His eyes were wide with fear as your captor pulled you backwards, his grip tightening even more.

Bucky grabbed the metal stick and leapt over the front of your car, his foot making contact with the man’s shoulder and sending him careening backwards. You jumped out of the way, but couldn’t tear your eyes away as Bucky dropped down onto one knee, thrusting the stick against the rib cage and firing an electric shock at your captor. You both watched as the man screamed, then passed out.

You looked around. 4 men lay unconscious or writhing in agony beside your car.

“Get in!” Bucky ordered, before racing around to the passenger door and jumping inside.

You fumbled with the key, just like yesterday when you were being shot at. “This is _not_ how I pictured this trip going…”

“I did,” he stated, “Now let’s go!”

Xxx

“Steve?”

“Natasha? aren't you supposed to be off creating some new covers, right now?”

“I know, I know, but I just received some intel you might find useful.”

“What? What is it?”

She sighed, “One of our, ahem, _former_ agents sent me a photograph.” She looked down at the printed copy, Bucky’s face looking right at her. “He’s in England.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

“[name]?”

“What?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Bucky, for the fifth time!” you snapped, as you squeezed the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles were white. The attack by the HYDRA goons was still playing on repeat in your head.

He dropped his gaze. “Maybe we should stop…find a hotel and get some sleep?”

“Why? We’re nearly there…”

“I know, but…” He sighed and looked out of the window. Pitch black surrounded you. The occasional set of headlights appearing in the distance like light shone through pin holes, getting larger and larger until they zoomed past, leaving a trail of red in their wake. “We need to rest, [name].” He clenched his metal hand into a fist, “I need to rest.”

You groaned and nodded, giving in. “All right…” You pressed a button on your steering wheel.

“Say search parameters,” a disembodied voice said, causing Bucky to jump a little.

“Hotels.”

“Searching for nearest hotels…”

“This is…advanced,” Bucky whispered.

You managed a faint laugh and shook your head.

“Searching for nearest hotels…”

“It’s probably taking so long because we’re in a mountainous area...”

“Kildary Lodge Hotel, 5 miles north east.”

“That’ll be fine, right?” Bucky said, looking at you for reassurance.

“Guess so. Recalculate.”

“Setting route.”

Xxx

As you pulled into the hotel car park, your eyes darted around manically, checking between each car as you drove round to an empty space right in front of the reception door. You turned the ignition off and sat there, glancing in your rear-view mirror and running your hands along the curve of the steering wheel.

“[name],” he said, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

“I…I’m scared,” you muttered, your eyes still bouncing around.

“I know…but I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Slowly, you turned to look at him, tears streaking your cheeks, “P…promise?”

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling you toward him and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I promise.”

You smiled at each other and opened the doors. He took the bags out of the back of the car, whilst you ran straight inside to make arrangements.

The room was surprisingly large, filled with traditional furnishings in deep oak, and luxurious, handwoven tartan, all reds and greens. It felt homely and comfortable.

Bucky carried the bags in behind you and dropped them on the bed, before glancing around the room. “Only the one…bed?”

You frowned, “Looks like it. We shared last night, though…didn’t seem weird, did it?”

“No, that’s true. And I guess if it did, I’ve always got the sofa.”

The two of you stood in awkward silence, keeping your eyes away from each other. You could still feel that man’s hand over your face, the sting on your cheek as he slapped you. You could feel your heels scrapping along the course ground as he tried to pull you back.

Bucky could still see the look of fear in your eyes as you tried in vain to scream. He could still feel his heart pounding so heavily that he felt like he might burst. The sound of bones breaking, of sneering, nameless men dropping to the ground. He stepped forward, “Can we talk…”

You held your hand up to silence him, “I’m going to take a shower…get out of these clothes.”

He closed his mouth and nodded, swallowing the lump that had become stuck in his throat.

You disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door with a soft click and falling back against it. You could hear him shuffling around outside the door, unzipping his bag and taking out clothes, most likely. “What’s wrong with you?” you asked yourself, looking down at your hands, visibly trembling. 

Bucky paused in his task, hearing the sound of the shower being turned on. He glanced over his shoulder, wanting to go in and talk to you, but thinking how foolish that would be. His mind wandered back to the woman who’d sat next to him on that aeroplane. She had smiled at him, talked to him…and never judged him, even when his anger got the better of him. When her mask of happiness had slipped and she’d made a mistake, she’d let go, pouring her heart out to him and reliving the worst day of her life. “And how had I repaid her?” He shook his head, remembering his anger and rage, how he’d towered over her…how she’d pushed him back, stood her ground. “She’s…incredible.”

Xxx

After your long, relaxing shower, you’d wrapped your hair up in a towel and thrown on a crisp, clean white tank top and shorts. Coming out of the bathroom, you found the room empty, the main lights out, leaving the soft orange glow of the bedside lamps the only light. You wandered over to the floor-length curtains and pulled one back, surprised to find a huge sliding door, leading out onto a balcony. You let your damp hair fall loose, threw on a cosy towelling robe, pulled the door open and stepped out, taking a sharp breath of cool air.

The view was spectacular, even at night. To your right, the moonlight reflected its pure brilliant white in the inky black of the loch that stretched as far as the eye could see. The breeze blew the still water, sending gentle ripples in all directions, the faint rustling of the pine trees in the surrounding forest a wonderful accompaniment. You looked down at the car park, your clear head seeing what was really there; rows of cars owned by families, couples, business travellers. No one here wanted to hurt you. You took a deep breath.

“[name]?” Bucky asked, opening the room door and walking inside with his hands full of logs for the fire. He knelt down by the grate and arranged the kindling, then flicked a match, the flame bursting to life, and set it all going.

“I’m out here,” you said, your voice soft.

He placed some thick logs on the fire before stepping outside and stopping beside you, his hand gently coming to rest on the small of your back.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you sighed.

“Yes,” he whispered, never shifting his focus from you.

“I usually hate the quiet...reminds me of being alone.”

“You’re not alone, now…”

“Aren’t I?”

“No.” He brushed a strand of damp hair off your face and wiped a tear with his thumb. “I want to…”

“What?” you whispered.

His eyes dazzled in the moonlight as he gazed at you, and chewed on his lip. Slowly, he lifted your chin and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Your shoulders dropped as he pulled you closer, his hand still pressed on your back. The kiss seemed to last for hours, just the two of you alone in the world.

As you pulled away from each other, he looked at you, his hand caressing your cheek. “I want to…love you, if you’ll let me?”

You offered him a smile and covered his hand, lowering it and intertwining your fingers as you tugged him through the door, into the warmth of the fire. He smiled back, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he slid the door closed and pulled the curtain shut.

“You’re...different, Bucky Barnes,” you said, stepping up to him and walking your fingers up his t-shirt, towards his neck.

“How so?”

“You’re such a gentleman…” You dropped a kiss on his jawline.

He blushed, “I…I’ve told you before, there was something about you right from the beginning…” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as your kisses multiplied. “I wanted, no, needed, to know you better…and I didn’t want to spoil it by getting too close, too soon.”

“Well, I think we should get to know each other a little better now…” You stepped back from him, holding his gaze, and untied the belt of your robe, letting it fall open. He let out a soft whimper and you chewed your lip, dropping your shoulders and letting the robe slide down your arms and onto the floor. “Don’t you?”

He flashed a smile at you as desire coursed through his veins. He wanted you desperately. Before you could say anything, he was lifting you up, your arms wrapping around his neck and your legs around his waist, and laying you down in the middle of the bed, your lips locked. His hands were all over you, tugging at your tank top and pulling it over your head as you lifted your arms up. Another flash of that smile followed, then a kiss, filled with passion. Your eyes fell shut and your mouth opened, soft moans escaping from both of you, while the fire crackled.

You slid your hands down to the bottom of his t-shirt and took hold of it, begrudgingly parting from his lips so you could remove it, with his assistance. Your fingers traced along the scars, then followed the lines on the metal all the way down, your eyes occasionally drifting to look up at him.

He gently took hold of your wrist and pulled it to the side.

“So strong,” you sighed.

He grinned and lowered himself down to you, casually taking your other wrist as he whispered in your ear, “Just like my feelings for you…” He nibbled your earlobe, smiling against your neck as he felt you giggling silently beneath him. Kisses tumbled down your neck and collarbone, as he moved your arms above your head, and released them. He took his time removing the rest of your clothes, pausing with every gasp that escaped your lips, then lingering with his metal hand against your skin. He drew tiny swirls along your stomach, all the while watching your face. “I thought we might slow things down a little…that okay?”

You nodded, unable to form words.

Yet more kisses followed, as he took his time making sure to give enough attention to every inch of you. Your chest heaved and your heart pounded, as his hands caressed your legs. You’d never known anything like this; the softest touch, the most tender kisses, and each one placed thoughtfully, igniting a flame inside you that you never even knew was there. How could a man with one arm made of the strongest metal have such a gentle touch? He knew exactly what to do; where to place it, where to linger and for how long. He listened to every sound you made, and knew just how to make the feeling, the desire you had for him, increase. By the time he made his way back up your legs, crawling up your body until you were looking into each other’s eyes, you were desperate for him.

You ran your fingers down his back as you moved together, in perfect rhythm, like you were the only one the other had ever known. You closed your eyes, your head tilting back as he moved away from your lips, and onto your neck, a trickle of sweat running down his back.

“Oh, Bucky,” you gasped, taking the sheets between your fingers and gripping tightly. He moaned and pushed against you, then dropped his head against your chest, his breathing heavily and hot.

“I…I think I’ve fallen in love with you, [name],” he murmured, after a few minutes. “That was the most…”

“Perfect moment I could’ve wished for,” you interrupted, watching as he lifted his head up to meet your gaze. “Thank you, Bucky…” You swept some hair off his face, then tilted your head. “I have a confession to make…”

“Oh?”

“I think I realised I was in love with you the moment we were parting at the airport…I wanted so badly to take your hand and pull you to me.” You ran your thumb over his lips and took a trembling breath. “I wanted you to kiss me…”

A mischievous smile spread across his face. “Like this?” he asked, before lowering himself again and placing a slow, delicate kiss against your skin.

“Maybe?” you smirked.

“Or perhaps like…this….” He shifted, moving to lay next to you on his side, and kissing your shoulder.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure about that one…lovely, but...”

“All right then…” He took your face in his hands and turned your head, his mouth opening against yours. The kiss was almost unbearably slow, one finger lifting your chin up to him whilst the others barely touched your cheeks. When you parted, he brushed his lips across yours once more, then leant back, pulling you into his arms.

“A kiss just like that.” You rested your head against his chest and stroked his scars, pondering.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Huh? Oh it’s…it’s nothing…”

“Hey…” he whined, “No hiding, now.”

“I just…It sounds silly but, that’s the first time anyone’s ever actually made love to me…in the purest sense.”

“Oh, [name],” he whispered, running his metallic fingertips up and down your bare back. “I meant every second…you’re incredible.”

“So are you.”

“You going mushy? I thought that was my job?”

You both laughed.

“No, I mean it. The way you fought those HYRDA goons…the way you protected me.”

“Every time, my love…until my last breath.”

“Thank you.” You shared one final kiss and pulled the sheets and quilt up.

He reached out, switched the bedside lamps off and kissed your hair, as you snuggled against each other, watching as embers burned in the fireplace, the warmth surrounding you. This truly was perfect.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some friends to help out

"Geez, Steve...check out that rage," Sam Wilson said, on his third viewing of the CCTV footage from your attack in the car park.

"I know...the anger in his face…his movements."

"Who's the girl?"

Steve shrugged, "No idea, but she seems important to him. I've got Natasha doing background checks.”

Sam nodded, wincing at the moment Bucky launched himself over the car, his foot making powerful contact with your captor’s shoulder, and sending him hurtling backwards. "Do we know anything else?"

"Only that they headed north after that, towards Scotland. Then the trail goes cold." Steve sighed heavily, and flopped down in his cream leather seat.

Tony Stark had leant them one of his many private jets to make the journey from DC to London. The contrast between these two no-nonsense veterans, and the unapologetic splendour of their surroundings must’ve looked amusing to an outsider.

Sam ran his hand along the walnut veneer table-edge and laughed to himself. After watching the footage one last time, he switched the tablet off, flipped the screen protector over and placed it on the table. “How do we know about any of this, in the first place? I mean, Bucky ran away after HYDRA fell…he’s meant to be a ghost, right?”

Steve clasped his hands together and bent forward. “I told you that Nat still has contacts in Britain, right?”

Sam gave a sharp nod and rose to his feet. He walked over to the galley and collected two bottles of ice-cold water from the refrigerator and held one out to Steve.

Steve grimaced as he twisted round to take it, the bullet wounds from his last run-in with Bucky still stinging.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, fine,” Steve nodded, pressing his palm against the area. “Just remnants. They'll be gone in another day or two. Anyway…seems Bucky managed to break into an old SHIELD weapons cache in London, and an agent was keeping an eye on the place, in case of…”

“HYDRA.”

“Exactly. So Buck breaks in, for…whatever reason, but according to Nat, this agent said he was being really methodical, really thinking about the weapons he needed.”

“What’s your take on that?”

“He’s on a mission,” Steve stated, “And she…” He tapped the tablet, “Is a big part of it.”

“You think he’s protecting her?”

“I’m not sure, but Nat should have further details soon…” Just then, a loud electronic tune resonated around the jet.

“Perfect timing,” Sam smiled.

“All right…now how do I work this thing…?” Steve’s hand hovered above a set of controls. Maybe 40 to 50 buttons, each with a tiny icon next to them. “Uhm…” Another ring of the tune. “Ah, here we go.”

A large flat screen monitor across the way came to life, and Sam spun his chair around, to see Natasha Romanoff looking back at them.

“Hey, fellas,” she smiled.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Nat, sorry to drag you into this…”

“Don’t worry about it, Rogers. You know me, I can never switch off entirely.”

Steve laughed under his breath, a smile just managing to crack his steely demeanour. “All right…did you find anything?”

“Yeah…I went back to the date of Bucky’s break-in and searched through all the CCTV footage I could find…”

“Was it a long shot?”

“Well, let’s just say luck is on our side for a change. Britain has about 1 CCTV camera for every 14 people, and because of that, I found no less than 4 separate shots of her in the 10 seconds out of her hiding spot. Check this out…”

She pressed a button, and there, on a 4-way split screen, was your face, from 4 different angles. Steve could make out you calling Bucky’s name, and your eyes growing wide as he ran towards you, bullets spraying the air around you. Just as you turned to rush back to the car, you seemed to look directly at the 3rd camera. Nat paused the screen, and a series of feature markers swept across your face, before thin lines connected each one up. A green line ran horizontally down your face, then a noise pinged.

Suddenly, every official ID you’d ever collected was popping up on screen. Your driver’s licence, passport, frequent flyer ID, your work pass, even your college and university ID badges. Everything.

Steve sat up straight. “Who…is she?”

“[full name], 30. Lives in Wapping, East London. Works at The Museum of Great Britain as an exhibition curator. Mother and sister alive, father d…deceased…”

“Nat?”

Silence. The screen had returned to her, but she sat frozen to the spot, staring at her computer.

Sam pushed off the arms of his chair and turned to look at Steve.

“Natasha…?”

“Steve…she’s James Montgomery Falsworth’s granddaughter…”

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “Wha…what…?” he mumbled, his memories rushing back to his days with the Howling Commandos…and Bucky. “Falsworth?”

“Oh geez…” Nat muttered to herself, “There’s more. Her father was murdered, five years ago, right in front of her, and…and she told the police a m…member of SHIELD did it…”

Sam sucked in air and ran his hands over his head, “Can this get any worse?”

“Why?” Steve whispered to Nat, his mind all over the place.

“Zola,” she frowned, finally lifting her focus back to them, an unusual amount of emotion on her face.

Steve lifted his hand up in her direction and shook his head, “Don’t…don’t say anymore…I think I can guess the rest.”

“Sorry, Steve.”

“So…” Sam chipped in, “How does this help us?”

Nat gave a quick shake of her head and began pounding the keyboard in front of her, “Well, since we know her name, etc. I can find out what car she drives, and track its journey via Automatic Number Plate Recognition software.”

“Freedom, huh?” Sam scoffed, his eyes darting across to Steve. 

Natasha smirked. Seconds later, another ping, and a map of Britain appeared on the screen. “All right, fellas, this is the route they’ve taken, so far.”

Steve shook himself out of his daze, stood up and walked over to the screen, his arms folded. He studied the route in silence, whilst Sam and Nat did the same. After a few minutes, he spoke. “Nat, how many SHIELD bases are there in Scotland?”

“Erm…2.”

“Where?”

“What makes you ask that?” Sam asked.

“Because Bucky knows who her father’s killer is, and most importantly, where he is.”

“Just outside Edinburgh and…some place I can’t pronounce,” Nat frowned. “Altnaharra, I think?”

“That’s where they’re going,” Steve said, tracing along the route you’d already taken, then tapping the map in the centre of the Highlands.

He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down the map co-ordinates, then handed it to Sam, “Tell the pilot to redirect us to this place, right now.”

“All right.” Sam turned and headed to the cockpit.

Steve looked back to the screen, “Nat.”

“Yeah?”

“Where was their last location point?”

“Kildary Lodge Hotel…about 50 miles from the base.”

He checked his watch. “Have they checked out, yet?”

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

“All right. Once they set off, it won’t take them long to get there. Keep me posted, okay?”

“Will do.”

Xxx

Streams of sunlight filtered in through the hotel room curtains, as the last embers of the fire burnt out.

Slowly, you began to awaken. Your head was still resting against Bucky’s chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat the most wonderful sound. He shifted as he lay asleep, hugging you closer as you smiled. The metal of his arm didn’t feel so cold now, perhaps warmed by being close to you all night, or maybe the fire should take the credit. You weren’t sure, but you knew that being in his embrace was everything you’d hoped for.

You opened your eyes and moved your arm, resting it against his stomach. Turning your head slowly, you lightly stroked his skin, lifting your finger away when he breathed in sharply. As he settled again, you continued, drawing all kinds of shapes in slow, sweeping motions.

“That tickles…” Bucky smirked, opening one eye.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked, lifting your hand away completely, now grinning.

“Nooo,” he whined, taking your hand and holding it against his stomach.

You obliged, laying there for maybe ten more minutes, just getting to know his body. Life had moved so fast after meeting him, and yet you were here, lying next to each other in bed, and it felt like you’d been together for years. Nothing felt awkward, or uncomfortable.

He let out a sigh.

“What’s that for?”

“I was just wondering when it was my turn…”

You chuckled, dropping your face against him to hide your blushes. “All right…” You dropped a kiss on his chest, moved up to his neck, then finally touched your lips against his. “Your turn.”

He flashed a grin at you, then flipped you onto your back, as your laughter filled the room.

Xxx

“Ready to go, [name]?” Bucky asked, standing by the room door.

“Just…one…second.” You ran around the room with your bag tucked under your arm, searching high and low. “Ah, ha…” you shouted, sweeping your bra up from just beside the bed. “Got it!” you grinned as you held it up to show him, before stuffing it into your bag and zipping it up. “It's a good job I have more than one. A little more patience, next time, hmm?”

His cheeks burned, but as you approached, he pulled you towards him by your waist, and kissed you deeply. “I don’t think I’ll ever be patient, when it comes to undressing you.”

You chewed on your lip and returned his kiss. “I love you, Bucky Barnes.”

“I love you too, [full name].” He laughed under his breath and buried his face in your neck for a moment.

“You all right?”

“Yes, absolutely, it’s just…I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to telling you how much I love you…”

“Good. Don’t want you getting complacent, now, do we?”

“Never.”

Xxx

“Hey, Nat. More news?”

“Yeah. According to the hotel computer system, they just checked out.”

Steve turned to Sam, and pressed a button on the side of his watch. “Did you bring your suit?”

“Of course, man.”

“Right.” He turned back to the screen. “They’ll be there within the hour?”

“Definitely.”

“Great. Hopefully we should be just in time. I think…I hope, your job is done now, Nat. Thanks…for everything.”

“Don’t mention it. Good luck, Steve…and be careful.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for revenge has arrived...

The air was still...unnervingly so. Moorland and jagged rocks surrounded you. A carpet of heather that stretched as far and wide as the eye could see was a dazzling shade of purple, a stark contrast to the slate grey of the SHIELD base hiding in the valley below.

The sleek, curved profile of the main building jutted up against the steep hill behind - where you and Bucky were hidden - as if a pebble placed there by a giant. In front of it, a runway, with the unmistakable emblem of SHIELD painted on the tarmac, 100ft wide. Four Quinjets sat perpendicular to the runway, their heavy arsenal primed and ready.

As a guard walked the perimeter, assault rifle in hand, Bucky lowered the binoculars from his eyes, and ducked down. You gulped, lowering yourself further into the grass.

“How many?”

“I counted 8. But there’ll be more inside…” he frowned, “A lot more.”

You swallowed. “So what do we do, now?”

He didn’t respond, but stood up and stepped forward, taking a cautious peek over the brow of the hill. Then, with his focus now trained on the men prowling the base, he stepped backwards, pulling his eyes away at the very last second to walk over to your car. You scrambled for the keys and unlocked the boot, watching as it opened in time for his arrival.

“Bucky?” you whispered, pushing up backwards so you didn’t stand up where anyone could see you. You glanced over your shoulder, and then hurried over to him. “So we’re…” You gasped as you caught sight of the boot. Weapons…so many weapons. Rifles, grenades and a launcher, pistols, some kind of advanced crossbow. “W…whoa…”

He smirked and touched your chin, gently closing your mouth. “If you’re gonna fight a battle…”

“Yeah, but…whoa…” You ran the back of your finger down the sleeve of his jacket and tilted your head. “Same goes for this too, I suppose?”

He looked down at himself; the buckled jacket, tactical pants, and thick-soled combat boots that had been HYDRA’s uniform for him, for 50 years. “I guess…taking out the bad guys whilst dressed as their most prolific killer…” He scoffed, “Seems almost poetic.”

Your face changed, as a realisation hit you. “Bucky…?”

“Yes?” he asked, as he began loading grenades into the barrel of the launcher.

“I’m not so sure about th…this, anymore…”

He looked at you and frowned, “What do you mean? Why?”

“I was angry…I still am angry, and I want Harris to pay for what he did, believe me, but…at the expense of you?” You shook your head. “I don’t want blood on your hands, Bucky.”

He sighed and looked up to the sky, “[name]…this has to end, for me, as well as you…”

“But..”

“Pierce is dead! Zola…dead! Pretty much everyone who is responsible for my…situation…is dead, except Harris.”

You dropped your face into your hands, “I know, I just…”

“Don’t want me with blood on my hands,” he interrupted, turning round and leaning against the car, “I get that, but look behind you. He is in there, surrounded by a small army that are not being paid to think for themselves…they’re all terrorists. They must be stopped before they kill hundreds, or even thousands, and I don’t see the police anywhere, do you?”

“No…” you whispered, finally showing your face to him, wet with tears. “But is this all you want? Will finishing this be enough, or…once you’ve got that taste of blood, will you continue hunting HYDRA?”

“[name]…” He placed his hand on the back of your head and pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. “You are all I want, y’hear? Once I know that bastard is dead, I’ll sleep easy, knowing he can’t hurt me anymore, and, most importantly, he can’t hurt you, either.”

You closed your eyes as he kissed your hair, and hugged him tight. A cool breeze was picking up, blowing your hair around your face, and tickling his cheek. You felt him give a soft chuckle, and for a moment, you were away from here, far away. You were stood holding each, in the middle of Central Park in the autumn, that cool breeze whipping crisp golden leaves up off the ground and into the air, swirling around you both as if possessing some wonderful magic. You sighed and felt his fingers curl in the thick waves of your hair, and suddenly, it all made sense. A mixture of fear, trepidation and…excitement? It was strange, almost as if you were preparing yourself for this mission. Now you were back in the Highlands, miles from anywhere except this former SHIELD base, and you were ready to help, in any way you could.

You pulled away from him just far enough to gaze into his blue eyes, and bit your lip. “All right…let’s finish it.”

“We will…” He smiled and pulled you back to him, placing a kiss on your lips. It was soft at first, but the longer it lasted, the more you both felt yourselves falling into it. As you opened your mouth, you lifted your arms up and over his shoulders. He turned you both, putting you up against the car, his hands coming to rest on your waist. Your eyes popped open and you tried to giggle.

He moved back, his eyes wide. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I…erm…” You giggled properly, this time, and patted his cheek, “Maybe we wait until the bad stuff is done before, you know…getting to the good stuff?”

“Oh.” He blushed, and rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, that’s probably, err…the right idea.”

Quiet laughter followed, before the subject was changed. “So…what’s the plan?”

“Well, first thing’s first. I need to take care of those human guard dogs, and then I need to get inside the base. That’s where I’ll need your help.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “What do I do?”

“If I remember from my last visit, there’s a communications room on the top floor, overlooking the runway. I need you to cut the power from in there, just for a minute, then sound the alarm…”

“Why would I do that? It’s going to draw attention to you.”

“Exactly.”

“And what if I come face-to-face with a HYDRA goon?”

“That’s where this comes in handy…” He reached into the boot of the car and picked up that hi-tech crossbow, then demonstrated it for you. “Just aim, and fire...”

You gulped, taking the weapon and inspecting it. “I feel like Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” you chuckled, nervously.

“Who?”

“Oh…never mind.”

He flashed a smile, then grew serious. “Once I’m inside, and the alarm is going off, get out and back to the car.”

You managed a smile back, then placed your forehead against his and closed your eyes. You tried to speak, but no words would come.

“Okay? We’re good to go?”

You managed to give a quick nod, as your fingers gripped the crossbow tightly. When he began to take hold of your arms, you shifted, dropping a kiss on his lips and throwing your arms around him. “Good luck, James Buchanan Barnes…don’t you dare get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, and you better not either.”

“Deal. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed each other again before parting, and he took a deep breath, gazing at you whilst the breeze blew his hair across his face. He checked that all his weapons were present in his many holsters, then took your hand and stepped backwards, your fingers touching until the very last second, when your fingertips brushed past each other, and you parted.

Now, all you could do was watch and wait for your cue.

It was as if a switch had been flicked. Bucky crouched as low as he could and sprinted across to the left outer-edge of the base, a long black case in hand. A solitary guard was standing with his back to him, rocking back and forth on his heels. He didn’t hear the Winter Soldier approaching, nor did he feel it, as the oxygen supply to his brain was interrupted by the sharp impact of hand to neck. As he dropped, Bucky caught him, and lowered him to the floor in complete silence, making sure to place the first casualty well into the shadows.

Satisfied that this was a good vantage point, he dropped to one knee and opened the case, removing his sniper rifle. Within seconds, he was set up and peering through the scope. “One…two…three,” he whispered, zooming in and catching sight of his next targets. He felt a rush of air leave his lungs, as he settled into position. It was like being back in his old routine; planning, assessing…getting ready to kill. There was a part of him that felt relief, even calm, but he knew that if he took a moment to dwell on these feelings, he’d fail. “Four…five…six…” Where was that seventh guard? He glanced back at the black boots poking out from the shadows behind him. “He’s eight…” He needed all seven to be within view at the same time, to lessen the chance of someone stumbling upon a body.

“Come on…” you mumbled, watching through the binoculars. “Where are you?”

Suddenly, the seventh man appeared, sauntering out from behind one of the Quinjets.

A smirk flashed across Bucky’s face. He checked his wind gauge and wriggled his fingers, starting with those holding the barrel, then those surrounding the trigger. With one last long breath, he fired seven bullets from the silenced sniper rifle at lightning speed, and all seven targets dropped in quick succession, almost as if re-enacting dramatic death scenes from some Italian opera, each spinning once on their heel before landing on the crescendo.

He gave a quick glance at you, nodded once, then leapt to his feet and disappeared from view.

You looked straight ahead and whispered, “Okay…you can do this, [name]. You’re strong. You work out.” You took a step forward, but your feet wouldn’t carry you any further. The crossbow, hanging loosely in your left hand, tapped your leg, making you jump. “This is for you, Dad…”

With that, you set off down the steep hill, grateful you’d worn your hiking boots. The earth was dry, which made sliding down the incline a noisy job, but hey, there were no guards left outside to hear it. “Steady…steady…” you said to yourself, as greyish dust clouds rose around you, intermingled with small stones and the odd blade of grass. By the time you felt safe enough to run the rest of the way, you’d been moving at some pace. As your feet touched the paving slabs that lined the fence, you ground to a halt and looked back at where you’d travelled from. “Sheesh…I’d rather not do that again.”

With a quick shake of your head, you swung the crossbow upwards, catching the fore-grip in your right hand, then set off towards the control room.

Bucky checked his watch as he waited by the door to Sector 5. “I hope I haven’t asked too much of her,” he muttered.

You jogged up to a gateway and looked up ahead. One of the guards Bucky had taken out lay prone on the ground, next to the paving, which was in a straight line leading to some metal steps. “That must be the control room.” You glanced to your right. “Yup, and that’s the runway.” You tugged on the latch, which opened easily, and ran past him.

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…” you said as you followed the path up the stairs and along a sort-of balcony, towards a solid grey door. Without giving it a second thought, you grasped the knob and twisted it, opening the door wide and stepping in. Two men, wearing HYDRA branded uniforms, turned slowly away from observing the runway to look at you, puzzled expressions on their faces.

You smiled and gave an awkward laugh, before slamming the door shut and falling back against the wall outside. “What the hell am I doing??” You grasped the crossbow tightly, made sure your finger was on the trigger, stood up straight, kicked the door open and fired once…twice, hitting the men square in their chests. As they dropped, you ran in and found the switch to power down the electro-magnetic external doors, and flicked it off.

Bucky saw the light go out and grasped the door handle, yanking it down and slipping inside. The corridor was eerily quiet, and dark, with its grey, rough textured walls. The smell of burning paper hovered in the air. He breathed in and out through his nose and began walking forward cautiously, turning back towards the door just as the light came back on, signalling that you’d switched the power back on. The sound of footsteps up ahead pulled his focus back ahead, and that smirk reappeared.

He pulled a pistol from each of the holsters on his hips and edged toward the end of the empty, murky corridor, then glanced around the corner. A group of five armed men were standing in the main hanger, surrounded by metal containers and two more Quinjets. He waited again, and only seconds later, an alarm began buzzing and a red light began flashing.

“Warning, Sector 5 door breached. Warning, Sector 5 door breached.”

Immediately, Bucky stepped out into the centre of the corridor and extended both arms, just as each of the men looked in the direction of Sector 5. Before they could reach for their guns, he fired five bullets, each one hitting its target with pinpoint accuracy.

You stepped away from the alarm system, watching as Sector 5 on the base map flashed. Your work here was done.

Bucky moved forward to where the corridor opened out into the hangar and fired more rounds to his left, hitting another cluster of HYDRA goons just as they arrived from Sector 4.

A man high up on a balcony two floors up fired a grenade towards him, hitting a crate just behind, and exploding on impact. Bucky dived to the side as he switched one pistol for a laser-sighted option, hitting the man right between the eyes. He rolled and switched the guns out again, making sure to reload his clip as he leapt to his feet. The alarm was still sounding, and the lights still flashing.

“He’s over there!” yelled a guard from somewhere across the way, his exact position difficult to pinpoint behind the obstacles.

Bucky crouched down and spotted three pairs of boots, lingering some distance away. He reached behind him to find a spare spherical grenade in his vest, then rolled it with enough power to travel the distance. The men didn’t have time to react, as the grenade exploded within seconds, knocking the jet off its front wheel and crushing one of them underneath.

xxx

“Sir, we have a situation,” a guard said, approaching a desk.

“Well, I figured that much,” Harris said, rising from his chair and dropping some papers into a shredder.

“Not just any situation, either. He’s here…”

“Is he now? Well, we best lay out the red carpet then. Our best man has returned.”

xxx

The door to your left rattled violently, “Hey, Davis! Open this door, we’re under attack!”

Your eyes grew wide.

Bang, bang, bang. “Open this damn door now! You better not be hiding from the fight!”

A sweeping sound filled the air as a plane touched down on the runway.

“I’m not kidding anymore, Davis! Open this bloody door!!” A few more bangs followed, then silence.

You took a step back towards the door you’d entered through, placing your fingers on your crossbow, whilst your eyes stayed fixed to the other entrance.

Suddenly, bullet holes peppered the door around the knob, sending streaks of bright light into the room. You grabbed up your weapon and rushed out of the room, along the balcony and back down the metal stairs, wincing with each hurried footstep as the sound echoed around the valley.

“She’s outside!” a voice screamed behind you.

You were running so fast, it felt like you could taste blood in your mouth. Your lungs were burning. As you hurried through the gateway and turned to the right, bullets were fired into the paving an inch ahead of you. You spun around and sprinted as fast as you could manage towards the runway instead, throwing quick glances over your shoulder every few feet to see your chasers catching on you. With a twist, you were facing them and firing your crossbow as you ran backwards, sending the pre-loaded 6-inch steel arrows flying through the air towards them. One man dropped, clutching his shoulder, whilst another three managed to avoid the onslaught, but lowered their weapons in order to pick up the pace.

“Warning, Sector 5 door breached. Warning, Sector 5 door breached.”

The vast hanger door was opening, allowing a crowd of HYDRA men to stomp into the area, weapons at the ready. With the screeching order of one, they began bombarding the vast space with bullets, unaware that Bucky had already scaled the wall up to the first floor, taken out three agents with his bare hands and was now crouched behind a solid section of wall, loading rockets into a launcher he'd spotted on the floor. As the hail of bullets rained down, causing the tyres to burst on the Quinjets, and sparks to fly from shredded electrical wires, he stood up and pulled the trigger, sending three rocket-powered missiles zooming towards the group. The men scattered like flies, but the range of the weapon was incredible, taking them all out in three explosions. He stared emotionless at the aftermath, then sprinted down a corridor behind him.

As you approached the hatched line down the middle of the runway, you heard a shot behind you, then felt it graze your side. You screamed and fell, hitting the tarmac with some force. Three sets of boots stomped towards you, and a hand grabbed your shoulder, turning you over.

He knelt down and lowered his face towards you, squinting to get a good look at you. You knew that face.

“This should be fun… It’s been a long time since I had any female company…”

You gasped, and reached out, spreading your hands over his face to push him back. The men laughed.

“Feisty girl…I know you.” He cackled loudly and ran his hand down your cheek and onto your neck, as you winced, kicking out with your legs. He wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and grabbed you, pulling you up to your feet. “I know a few men who’d like to say hello to y…”

You screeched as a heavy metal object hit him on the side of his head, sending him hurtling. The two other men looked around, to be greeted by bullets from another direction.

You scowled and covered your eyes in an effort to see beyond the bright sunlight, just as a whooshing sound resonated around the area, and a giant bird-like being soared through the air above you. The heavy metal object shot back in the direction it came from, as a man held his hand out to catch it like a giant Frisbee.

As he approached you, hooking the Frisbee onto the back of his red, white and blue suit, the flying man landed at your other side.

“Miss [last name]?”

“Y…yes?”

“My name is Steve Rogers, and this is Sam Wilson.”

Sam saluted you and took a step forward.

You spluttered, unable to process what you were seeing. “Err…I…I know who you are…” you nodded.

“Good,” Steve said, coming to a stop next to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Now, where is Bucky?”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight continues as Bucky gets closer to his final target

“Err…he’s…” You pointed towards the main building, where you could see the hangar door wide open. “I let him in at Sector 5, so…I’m guessing not too far from…from there…”

“All right,” Steve nodded, before thumbing over his shoulder, “That’s our plane at the end of the runway. Get yourself inside, whilst we help Bucky.”

“No…” you said, wincing as you felt the sting of your bullet-grazed side.

Sam looked down at a small patch of red seeping through your top. “You’ve got to get to safety, [name]…”

“I’m fine, honestly, and…” you frowned, “How do you even know my name?”

“We’ve been tracking you. Natasha Romanoff found your credentials…”

“What? _The_ Natasha Romanoff?”

Sam nodded.

Just as you were about to ask more questions, the sound of gunfire in the distance covered you. “Bucky!” Before Steve or Sam could react, you set off running in the direction of the noise. “Bucky!”

“Guess we’re going with her, then,” Sam said, nodding in your direction.

Steve shrugged, taking hold of his shield, before they set off running after you.  

\---

_Soldiers marching, two by two, their boots pounding the floor in perfect rhythm. Hands clasping at rifles. Voices barking orders. Asset._

_The squeak of rubber wheels on concrete. Double doors being shoved open and slamming against walls. Indistinguishable voices talking at each other. Blurred vision. Metal fingers catching what little light there was and bouncing into eyes. Asset._

_Another set of doors, held open by white coats. Machines buzzing and whirring. Shaking hands, locked tightly in restraints. Screaming… Hands pressing down on shoulders. Operating lights. Asset._

_An accent. Scottish? Powerful. Demanding. Alexander Pierce. Laughter. Lights spinning. Vision growing even more blurred. That accent again, up close. His face, right there, looming over. A grin. Darkness._

Bucky’s shoulder made contact with a wall, as his memories assaulted him. A long window on his left down the corridor offered a view of a room, instantly familiar to him. A chair sat in the middle of the space, covered in arm, torso and leg restraints. Above it, a circular cluster of lights, and next to it, a dusty machine and heart monitoring screens. He gulped and covered his mouth. He looked over his shoulder at four more HYDRA men he had just taken out, and felt grateful that he managed to do that first.

_“It seems the eminent Doctors, Zola and Ivchenko mastered the technique of brain manipulation, during their time in US custody,” Harris smirked, looking through the glass at the Winter Soldier being strapped down._

_“I hope so,” Pierce said, “Because otherwise, we’ll have to find another.”_

_“I’m positive it’ll work…and it better, because I had to improvise to get it.”_

_“You’re talking about Falsworth Jr?”_

_“Yeah, messy business. Good job my SHIELD reputation is flawless, ‘cause that whiny little bitch nearly ratted me out.”_

_Pierce groaned, “Don’t take things so personally, Harris. I thought Scottish people were tough?”_

_“We are, but I can’t help taking this personally. I want a chance to get rid of her, okay? Tie up that loose thread...”_

_“I’ll tell you what,” Pierce said, resting his hand on Harris’s shoulder, “As a thank you for fixing my problem, I’ll add the daughter, her mother…hell, I’ll add every single member of that family to the first list of Insight targets. What do you say?”_

_Harris pondered for a minute, before a grin spread across his face like wildfire. “Let’s hurry up and get him under control, then…”_

Bullets streaked past Bucky’s head, wrenching him out of his memories, but he was glad of the distraction, glad to be drawn back into the firefight. He dodged the onslaught from three men shooting from behind a corner, sliding to his right just as the bullets shattered the window, bringing the chair into view, unobstructed. He fired back, hitting three targets with three shots. As the goons dropped, his focus fell on the room again.

Suddenly, with his last breath, one of the wounded men lifted his gun and fired at Bucky in his unresponsive state, puncturing the right side of his chest.

Bucky cried out, as pain charged through him. He fell to his knees, pressing his left hand against the wound and sucking in air through his teeth. He managed to shuffle over to the wall, and leant against it, shifting his attention between both ends of the corridor, and checking how much blood was covering his hand. 

The alarm finally stopped, but the respite lasted for only a few moments before the sound of Strike Teams barking orders at each began to bounce around the walls. He frowned, unsure which direction they were coming from.

His heart was pounding. Gone was the eerily calm Winter Solider, unfazed by distractions, ever ready, biding his time waiting for the right moment to strike. Bucky felt sick. All of his anger and need for revenge, for himself and for you, had been coursing through his veins since you had told him your secret, and now it was spilling over. This was personal.  

The voices died down, and he strained his ears to listen out for the faint padding of soft-soled shoes approaching.  

His eyes fell closed, as he took deep breaths, in and out.

_“Good luck, James Buchanan Barnes…don’t you dare get yourself killed.”_

“I won’t,” he whispered, before pushing up off the floor and reaching over his shoulder to grab his most powerful gun, ignoring the searing pain from his wound.  

The shuffling noises grew steadily louder; all the while Bucky stood there, his hands gripping tightly to the gun - finger on the trigger - ready to shoot in either direction. He waited patiently, and listened.

With one sharp intake of breath, he aimed his gun to the right, just as a Strike Team member poked his head out from round the corner. A single bullet pierced the scope of the man’s rifle, hitting him straight in the eye. He fell back silently, almost as if in slow motion.

Then the onslaught began. All tactics were forgotten, as Strike Teams scurried out from either end of the corridor, like a swarm of ants, whilst Bucky fired methodically at each person, hitting most of them before they had even had a chance to fire a single round. As bullets flew through the air in all directions, he lunged to his left, flattening a couple of his assailants and grabbing others by their necks, forcing their heads down to meet his knee.

The crunching of their bones was drowned out by his absolute rage, as flashes of your terror bombarded his mind. He could see you struggling against the grip of those men, whimpering and crying. He could see your dad, begging for his life to be taken instead of yours. He could hear the gunshot, and the scream…he could see Pierce and Harris laughing behind that window as Zola’s experimental science was practiced on him.  His eyes turned black.

He pulled another Strike Team member towards him and turned round to face the opposite end of the corridor, standing behind the man as more bullets flew towards him. Shielded from the attack, he pulled one of his pistols out of its holster and dropped the man, before firing four shots, taking each man out in quick succession.

The pain caught up with Bucky, as the last of his adrenaline seeped away. He touched the wound again, and fell against the wall behind him, keeping his breathing calm and steady in an effort to lower his heart rate. He looked around at the 20+ bodies strewn all over the floor, and groaned, touching his brow. He’d hardly broken a sweat.

You raced towards the open hangar door and came to an abrupt stop. “Oh my God…” you gasped, clamping your hand over your mouth. Patches of the floor were smoking, as some of the crates still burned. Bullet holes littered the walls, and streaked across the ceiling and the Quinjets, whilst the bodies of HYDRA goons lay broken all around.

Steve and Sam were only a step behind; their mouths dropping open at the sight.

You turned in a circle to take it all in, unable to speak another word.

 “Geez…” Sam frowned, looking at Steve.

“This is worse than I thought…” Steve sighed, removing his helmet.

"And it’s all my fault,” you whispered, after a few minutes of silence.

“How so?”

“I told Bucky what happened to me, and to my dad…”

Steve stepped towards you, stony-faced. “Is it related to his…capture?”

You gave a slow nod, as tears blurred your vision. “The man, who killed my dad, also helped Alexander Pierce re-programme Bucky…”

“Do you know his name?”

You nodded again, more vigorously. “H…Harris…William Harris.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide, as he looked to Steve. “He was in that file Nat gave you, back in DC.”

“Yeah, Pierce put him in charge of this place.”

“Kind of out of the way, isn’t it?” Sam replied.

“Far enough away from civilisation, that his work won’t be disturbed, I suppose.”

“Sheesh, "Sam shuddered, "Sp I’m guessing this is a revenge mission?”

“Yes. And I have to help him…” you said, backing away. You heard the sound of gunfire once more and spun on your heels, ready to run towards the fight.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steve shouted, rushing to block your path. “I’m sorry, [name], but you _have_ to stay here…”

“But, I _need_ to help him, Steve! Sorry, Cap… _sir…_?”

Steve shook his head, “I can’t allow you to do that. Please, just wait here whilst we find Bucky.”

You swallowed, forcing down a lump caught in your throat. By now, the distant patter of gunfire was filling the air continuously, and you were sure you could hear Bucky shouting. “I…I can’t lose him…”

Sam stepped around next to Steve and dropped his hand on your shoulder. “We won’t let that happen, [name], we promise. We need to make sure you’re safe, though.”

You gave in and nodded, now so anxious for the shooting to stop that you would do anything. “All right, I’ll wait here.”

Both men smiled at you, before Steve replaced his helmet on his head and fastened the chin strap. He looked at Sam and nodded, “You ready?”

Sam’s retractable pistols sprang out, his hands reaching out to grasp them. “I’m not used to indoor fighting, let alone flight…is it too late to change my mind?” he chuckled, trying to ease the tension.

More gunfire came, followed by the rumbling and shake of a small explosion.

“Don’t think so,” Steve replied with a smirk. He aimed one more nod in your direction, followed by a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze of your shoulder, before lifting his shield off his back. “We’ll come back for you…we’ll bring him back.”

\---

Bucky charged towards a combat-geared Strike Team member, who looked at him with such paralysing fear that Bucky couldn’t help but smirk, as he threw himself at him. The man fell backwards, the full weight of Bucky pressing against his chest. As the man’s head hit the ground, Bucky put his hands on either side of his face, and twisted in one swift motion.

He stood up and continued going forward, stepping over bodies whilst loading a new ammo clip into each of his side pistols, then grabbing the mini rocket launcher and turning a corner. He stopped.

Ahead of him, in another multi-storied hangar, dozens of goons and Strike Team members stood with their weapons pointed at him. He glanced upwards, spotting the 6 snipers along each balcony at regular intervals, and right in the middle, on the second floor, the unmistakable snarling face of Harris, his auburn hair vivid against the black of his uniform.

“HYDRA’s favourite son returns!” Harris bellowed, his voice bouncing around the cavernous space.

Bucky breathed in great gulps of air through his nostrils, his finger twitching against the trigger of the rocket launcher.

“Care to say a few words to all these men who helped make you what you are?”

“I’d prefer to show them,” Bucky growled.

Harris dropped his head and laughed under his breath. Some of the men around lowered their weapons slightly, puzzled by their superior’s relaxed attitude, and scared by the Winter Soldier's presence. “You know…I have to hand it to you, Soldier…”

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes…”

“I’m going to call you Soldier…”

“ _My name is James Buchanan Barnes!”_

Harris laughed again, then began pacing. “I didn’t expect you to outlive Pierce. That was impressive. The Soldier… _The Asset_ …without his handler. Like a puppy without his master…”

“I’m controlled by _no one_ , any more.”

“Except the girl, of course,” Harris smirked.

Bucky stepped forward, and all the men raised their weapons again. He gave those around him side-eyed glances, as his hands gripped ever tighter to the rocket launcher. “Don’t you dare…” he said, returning to glare at his foe.

“I’m sorry, what’s that? You _don’t_ think she’s controlling you?” Harris mocked, as he continued to pace, his focus never landing on Bucky. “She’s got you here, doing her bidding, taking _her_ revenge against me…How did she get you to do that, huh? To come here, to the one place you’d probably never want to step foot in again? What was the prize? Did she let you screw her, before she sent you to your death?”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about her like that! You have _no_ right!”

A loud, unnerving laugh erupted from Harris, as he clasped his hands behind his back and continued pacing still. He whispered something in one of his men’s ears.

“I’m going to finish you, Harris. I’m going to burn you to the ground for what you did…to her…to me. Take a deep breath, because that’s the last you’ll get.”

Harris ignored him, instead focusing on the men passing his order around amongst themselves.

“Look at me!” Bucky shouted.

Harris stopped, and turned slowly to face him. He curled his long fingers around the balcony rail and leaned forwards, his face contorted into an otherworldly sneer which left Bucky unable to move. “To think, I had a part to play in shaping the century, as Pierce would say." He clicked his tongue and continued, "Goodbye, Winter Soldier…It was fun, while it lasted.”

Before Bucky could respond, Harris stepped backwards, whilst the man stood closest to him readied his weapon. Just as he began to pull the trigger, a metal object came spinning towards him, hitting him in the head and sending him flying.

Bucky jerked his head up and to his right to see Steve throwing snipers over the balcony, and reaching up to grab his shield on it’s return journey. Suddenly, out of a corridor to Bucky’s left, the now familiar sound of the Falcon swooping up into the air whizzed around the hangar, firing at the men congregated on the left-side of the space.

Bucky wrenched himself out of his daze and aimed straight ahead, firing a rocket towards another Strike Team pre-occupied with seeing a man with metal wings flying around their Scottish base. The explosions shook the entire building, as small fires were left in the craters, soon to be joined by more rockets.

He began moving around the space, almost as if he was stalking his prey. The men who surrounded him, who had looked so intimidating a few minutes ago, when their Vadar-like leader was showing off, now all seemed to be running scared, hiding behind large container crates and Quinjets. He picked them off, one by one, switching to his trusty pistols and showing no mercy. Every one of them was loyal to HYDRA, no question about it. Their uniforms even bore the unnerving blood-red HYDRA logo on their shoulders. Bucky reached down to one of the fallen men, and ripped the badge off, before throwing it on the ground and stepping on it.

Meanwhile, Steve continued to take out the snipers, and sprinting around the balcony, throwing his shield upwards to take out the men on the high floors.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel!” Sam quipped, as more Strike Team members fell by his hand.

“Got that right,” Steve returned, just as he charged at the last sniper and knocked him over the edge with a bone shattering kick to the chest. After catching his shield again, he peered over the edge and caught sight of Bucky’s metal arm, stalking another group of men. Steve launched himself over the balcony and landed with surprisingly little noise, before sprinting to catch up with his childhood friend.

Bucky kicked and punched his way through the last of his targets, whilst Sam flew upwards and picked off the last few remaining snipers on the top balcony. As he watched the men drop three floors to a crushing end, he caught sight of the shock of auburn hair running towards an exit on the opposite side, high above the corridor that Bucky had entered from. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he muttered to himself, then looped the loop and set off in pursuit.

“Bucky!” Steve yelled, as a lone goon crept round the corner, a six inch knife held aloft just behind Bucky’s head. Before he had a chance to do anything, Steve threw the shield with enough force to send the man flying into a crate at 100 mph.

“S…Steve?” Bucky whispered through gasps for breath, as the onslaught came to an end. “Wh…what are you doing here?”

“I came to help you, Buck. I couldn’t let you do this alone.”

“But…”

“[name] needs you, and I get the impression you didn’t expect to come out of this alive.”

Bucky collapsed against a crate, his hand going straight to his wound. “I…I didn’t…but I was accepting of it.”

“Was she?”

Bucky shrugged, as Steve approached him and leant forward, examining the bullet wound.

“Geez, Buck, you’re crazy…”

“I needed to do this, Steve…Harris is responsible for…”

“Extending your programming, I know. And killing [name’s] father…”

“She’s Falsworth’s granddaughter,” Bucky said, wincing as his friend continued to look at his wound.

Steve nodded, “And you love her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then…”

“Sorry to interrupt, guys, but I found this piece of garbage trying to sneak away,” Sam said, throwing Harris at the floor before coming to land in some open space.

Bucky and Steve stood up and walked around the crate, with Steve coming to a stop by Sam. Bucky, meanwhile, headed straight for Harris and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, yanking him up to his face.

“Look around you…” he seethed, turning Harris’s head to take in the bodies strewn all over the hangar. “Who’s going to fight your battles for you, now? No Pierce, either…who are you going to answer to now? Huh?”

Harris said nothing, but the smile was still there.

Bucky gave him a shake and wrapped his metal fingers around the man’s throat. “You ruined my life! You ruined [name’s]…but no more.”

“Whoa, Buck…” Steve said, as he and Sam took a step forward, their hands outstretched. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Yeah, man…just think for a moment…”

“Think?!” Bucky yelled, pulling Harris forward a few more inches. “I’ve had _five years_ to think about this, and how much I want him dead for what he did!”

“He will face justice, Bucky…you can count on that.”

Bucky shook his head and sucked in air though his teeth, all the while glaring at his enemy. “No…this is _my_ justice.”

“Do it…” Harris gasped, as the grip tightened around his neck. “Prove me right…let the monster win…”

“Shut up!” Bucky screamed, throwing him backwards into the wheel of a Quinjet.

As Harris spluttered and tried to scramble to his feet, Bucky stomped over to him and grabbed him by his collar, dragging him into the open space again.

“Get on your knees.”

“Buck…”

“Steve, don’t…”

More laughter from Harris.

“I said get on your knees!” Bucky bellowed, pulling out his pistol and firing a warning shot mere inches from Harris’s splayed fingers.

Steve and Sam took another step forward as the man shuffled to his knees. “Bucky, don’t so this. Let a court punish him…”

“ _No!_ He’s going to pay for what he did, Steve! I…I was electrocuted, frozen…held under water! Anything you can imagine!" he gasped, "...And all because my memories were returning…”

Steve gulped. The words were difficult to hear.

“Instead of just putting a bullet in my head, casting me aside because I wasn’t reliable any more, they let _him_ …” he aimed his gun at Harris’s head, and took a deep breath. “They let him reprogram me…and they killed [name’s] father in pursuit of the method.”

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Steve whispered, “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner…and I’m sorry her father was killed, I really am.”

“Then let me finish it!”

“No.” Bucky, Steve and Sam spun around to see you standing in the doorway of a corridor, tears streaming down your cheeks. “James Buchanan Barnes...don't do this...”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown

Bucky shifted his weight, gripping tightly to Harris’s collar with one hand, whilst pointing the gun at his head with the other. He frowned and stared at you. “[name]? But we agreed…”

“I know,” you nodded, taking slow steps towards him, “I know, darling…but I’ve changed my mind.”

Harris smirked, as he listened.

“You…you’ve changed your…mind?” Bucky stuttered, rolling his lips. Harris scoffed under his breath and Bucky tightened his grip, causing his enemy to choke.

“Buck…” Steve muttered, taking a step forward.

“Shut up!” Bucky snapped, throwing him a glare. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Steve said nothing, and step backwards again, as Sam raised his eyebrows.

“He needs to face justice, Bucky,” you said firmly, inching towards him.

“He killed your father, [name]! _This_ is the justice you deserve!”

You shook your head. “No, it isn’t…”

Harris opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, you raised the crossbow from behind your back and fired, sending an arrow shooting into his side. Harris roared with pain.

Bucky was unable to comprehend what had happened, and stared blankly at his captive.

“What the…??” Sam gasped, before rushing over to you and wrestling the weapon out of your shaking hands. Confusion and shock abounded.

“That is _only_ the beginning!” you yelled, through a sudden burst of emotion. “But…you’re…you’re not getting a qu…quick exit out of this world…”

Bucky let go of Harris’s collar, allowing the man to crumple into a heap on the floor, as he let out a pathetic whimper. Bucky ran over to you, catching you just as your knees gave way. “[name]!” he cried, “Darling…what were you th…thinking?”

Tears flowed down your cheeks like waterfalls, and between gasps for breath, you glared at your father’s killer with a look of pure hatred. “I needed to…” you whispered, so faintly, Bucky and Sam could barely hear you.

Steve managed to pull himself together and walked over to Harris. He crouched down and looked at the wound, which was bleeding steadily. “He’ll live.”

With those words, you collapsed into Bucky’s arms, clinging to him as he lowered you both to the ground and kissed your hair. You grasped at his back, your body begging to be held as you wailed. He hugged you tight, and dropped another kiss in your hair.

Slowly, all the blind rage that he had been feeling dissipated, and he allowed his sadness, his grief, to flow over him like a wave. He stopped fighting his emotions and joined you in weeping, as relief that it was all over took hold.

“Bucky…” Steve said quietly, as he moved to stand behind you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Bucky looked up at him but said nothing.

“I’m going to call this in, okay?”

After a quick glance back to see Harris groaning and whimpering on the floor, Bucky returned his focus to Steve and gave a single, sharp nod. Steve looked at you with both sympathetic eyes, and then tapped Sam on the shoulder to get him to follow.

They moved to the other side of Harris and began talking in a whisper, organising what was going to happen next.

“You okay?” Bucky said to you when he finally broke the silence.

“I…I don’t know.”

He leaned back slightly to look in your eyes, and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “Why did you do it, [name]?”

“Because I wanted to take some of your pain away…”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw what you did in that other hangar, and what you’d done all over this base…I could f…feel your anger burning inside you, and I…I wanted to put an end to it…”

“By shooting him _yourself?_ ”

You nodded as your breath faltered. “I didn’t want you to kill him and let that rage consume you, Bucky. I’m sorry I got you into all of this in the first place…”

“What?” he frowned, “Darling, no, don’t apologise. I knew exactly what I was getting myself into.” He pulled you into his arms again and held tight. “I got on that plane, knowing I was going to come here, don’t you remember?”

“You had some business to take care of…”

“Exactly. But…thank you, anyway [name].”

“What for?”

He gently coaxed you to your feet and ran his hands down your arms. He met eyes with Steve and nodded in appreciation, then led you away from Harris, as Steve and Sam went towards him and yanked him to his feet. “You were right. I was…I could feel myself…slipping. If you hadn’t showed up, I’m scared I might’ve killed him…slowly.”

“Oh Bucky…” you sighed, choking back your emotions.

His bottom lip quivered and he whispered, “Please d…don’t judge me…”

You shook your head vigorously and placed your hands on both sides of his face, holding his attention. “Never. Not for a single second.” You stood up on your tip toes and kissed him, feeling your heart skip a beat. It was over.

“Hey…” Steve said, taking a step towards you. “The authorities will be here soon. Let us take care of this and you two get yourselves to the plane, all right?”

You both nodded, then gazed at each other.

“What do you say, [name], wanna get out of here?”

“What do you think?” you smiled, before placing another kiss on his lips. With that, you took hold of his hand and leant against him as you walked out of the hangar, together.

\---

6 months later

_“I am standing here outside the High Court in London, where the verdict in the trial of former SHIELD agent and high-ranking HYDRA officer, William Harris, has just been delivered. The jury of seven men and five women took less than an hour to come to a unanimous decision, finding him guilty of the murder of retired antique shop owner, Henry [last name]. Mr [last name] was shot to death in the basement of the Museum of Great Britain, when Harris and a gang of fellow HYDRA double agents took him and his daughter hostage, whilst in search of a weapon.”_

_“Miss [last name] was in court to hear the verdict being read out, and her barrister had this statement to make…”_

_“I don’t think I will ever be able to erase the memory of seeing my father killed in front of me, and in such a brutal way, but more lives than just mine and my family’s were ruined that night. William Harris will also be going on trial for war crimes in the very near future, where I hope and pray that justice will prevail, as it has here today."_

_"Without the help of Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff, I would not be standing here today, so to them I offer my most heartfelt thanks….”_

“And to James Buchanan Barnes…” you said, strolling into the doorway of the TV room at Avengers Tower, wearing a long red coat and black leather gloves, and placing a suitcase on the floor.

Bucky gasped as he spun around on the couch and turned the TV off, then leapt to his feet and swept you up in his arms. “[name]!”

“Bucky…” you breathed, before pulling him into a kiss. “Am I pleased to see you. I cannot find enough words to describe how much I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t mention it, darling, I love you and I wanted to help.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed your cheek, before sighing against your skin. “I’m just glad you’re here now…I’ve missed you, so much.”

“We both had places we needed to be, though. I was needed for the trial, and you had to come here and start your healing. How is that going?”

“It’s all right,” he shrugged, “A lot of talking about myself and my feelings…it’s a little strange after being so… _detached_ for such a long time, but…now you’re here I’m sure it’ll be easier.”

“I’m looking forward to helping you, darling, especially after all that legal drama, and having to explain myself for shooting Harris…”

He pulled back to look at you. “What was the outcome of that?”

“They’re not pressing charges.”

Bucky gave a sigh of relief and kissed you again. “Thank goodness for that.”

“They agreed that I had suffered greatly at the hands of that man, and since my reaction wasn’t deadly…they let me go.”

“I still don’t see why you handed yourself over to the police…”

“Because I wanted to,” you whispered, holding him close. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now…I’m free, you’re free, and he’s in prison for the rest of his life.”

You smiled at each other and hugged again.

“How’s things with your Mom?”

“They’re…all right, I guess. I’m not sure she was too happy with some of my life choices but, at least we’re talking again, and she doesn’t hate me now she knows what happened to dad.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Why?”

“Because _I’m_ the life choice she’s not happy about, aren’t I?” He looked away and took a slow breath.

“Darling,” you said, turning his chin back towards you, “Mum and I have always had a difficult relationship, but Dad would’ve adored you. Remember that instead…please.”

He nodded and gave you a small smile. “So…erm, let’s get your stuff upstairs, yeah?”

He picked up your case and tugged your arm to follow him down the hallway and up the stairs. You stopped outside a pair of honey-coloured wood doors and watched as he pushed them open to reveal a huge bedroom, painted in earth tones, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking downtown Manhattan.

“Bucky…” you murmured, as he coaxed you inside. “This place is incredible…”

“And it’s our home, now…” He stopped in the centre of the room and suddenly became very nervous, “That’s only if…if you _want_ it to…be?”

You frowned at him and placed both hands on his face. “If that’s your way of asking me to live with you, darling, let me just ask you one question…”

“Yes?”

“Why do you think I brought such a big suitcase?”

"Oh. I see..." His eyes changed from loving, to lustful, and a smirk formed on his lips. “I’ve been counting down the days, [name]…”

“IS that so? Until _when_ , exactly?”

He closed the bedroom doors and turned back to you. “Until this very moment…” He pressed his lips against yours and walked you backwards to the bed, where you both collapsed onto the duvet and into fits of giggles.

Faces grew serious, as hands were everywhere, clothes discarded, warm kisses and cold metal touching skin. Tracing the contours of each other’s bodies, legs intertwining…everything was perfect.

You laid side by side on the wrinkled sheets, breathless and giggling. You twisted your fingers around his hair and gazed at him, the warmth of the mid-morning sun covering you.

“It feels like only yesterday that we were sat on that plane, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he smiled, before turning onto his side to face you and placing his metal hand on your hip, “And now look at us. Who’d have thought?”

“Me,” you said, biting your lip.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Uh huh…I told you already, before we went into the HYDRA base…I knew I loved you almost instantly. And even though I tried my hardest to ignore my feelings, all for the sake of that _disastrous_ night, I’ve loved you more and more, with every passing minute.”

“Darling…”

“You have given me everything I ever wanted, and if there’s even a small chance I’ve done the same for you…I get the feeling we’ll be just fine.”

He leaned forward to kiss your shoulder and returned to your eyes, big and [e/c], looking at him longingly, and smiled. “[name]…darling, I was lost… _completely_ , and then you showed up in my life and suddenly I was found. You gave me purpose when I felt I had none, you showed me what it was like to care about someone, and how every action has a consequence. I love you with all my heart, [full name], and I promise right here, right now, that I will love you until my very last breath.”

THE END


End file.
